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THE SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY. 
GENERAL EDITOR PROFESSOR 
I. GOLLANCZ, LITT.D. 



3S'( 




ROMEUS AND JULIET 



All Rights reserved. 



BROOKE'S 'ROMEUS AND 
JULIET' BEING THE 
ORIGINAL OF SHAKES- 
PEARE'S 'ROMEO AND 
JULIET ' NEWLY EDITED 
BY J. J. MUNRO 




NEW YORK 

DUFFIELD AND COMPANY 

LONDON: CHATTO &> WINDUS 

1908 






WEEVER'S SONNET, 1595. 

Aci Gulielmum Shakespeare. 

HONEY-TONGUED SHAKESPEARE, WHEN I SAW THINE ISSUE, 

I SWORE APOLLO GOT THEM AND NONE OTHER, 
THEIR ROSY-TAINTED FEATURES CLOTHED IN TISSUE, 

SOME HEAVEN-BORN GODDESS SAID TO BE THEIR MOTHER; 
ROSE-CHEEKED ADONIS WITH HIS AMBER TRESSES, 

FAIR FIRE-HOT VENUS CHARMING HIM TO LOVE HER, 
CHASTE LUCRETIA VIRGIN-LIKE HER DRESSES, 

FROUD LUST-STUNG TARQUIN SEEKING STILL TO PROVE HER: 
ROMEO, RICHARD, MORE, WHOSE NAMES I KNOW NOT, 

THEIR SUGARED TONGUES, AND POWER ATTRACTIVE BEAUTY 
SAY THEY ARE SAINTS, ALTHOUGH THAT SAINTS THEY SHOW NOT, 

FOR THOUSANDS VOW TO THEM SUBJECTIVE DUTY: 
THEY BURN IN LOVE THY CHILDREN, SHAKESPEARE, HET THEM, 
GO, WOO THY MUSE MORE NVMPHISH BROOD BEGET THEM. 

Epigrammes in the oldest cut^ and neivest foshion, etc, 
Epig. 22. 



Fu- 




INTRODUCTION 
General Consideration of the Story.— The 

Middle Ages have left us many tales of unhappy love, 
wherein the golden promise of youthful passion is trans- 
formed by unkindly circumstance into woe and death. 
Such tales were generally produced by a process of growth 
occupying many years and passing from land to land. 
- Perhaps the most beautiful and tragic, certainly the 
most famous and highly developed of such old tales is the 
history of Romeo and Juliet. Its real origin is involved in 
much obscurity ; but as Boswell^ and Simrock^ first pointed 
out, the story, in its principal elements, possesses striking 
analogy to the older love-tales of Hero a7id Leander, and 
Pyramus and Thhhe, and Tristan and Isolde. This analogy, 
however, should not be unduly pressed : it would be too 
much to say that its existence proves organic connexion 
between these stories, although an exceedingly remote 
relationship is possible ; a number of other tales, like that 
of Ulysses and Penelope, possess too an analogy in some 
respects with Romeo, but can have no relation to it. Cino 

iBoswell's Forewords to Romeo and Juliet, 1821, V. vi., p. 265. 
2 Karl Simrock on the Plots of Shakespeare* s Plays, ed, Halliivell 
Shak. Soc, 1850. 



X INTRODUCTION 

Chiarini^ and Keightley^ are two of those who are apt 
to press the connexion too much, in considering Pyramus 
and Thisbe as the ultimate source of the Romeo legend. 
This theory of absolute relationship with one ancient 
story is hardly tenable in the light of evidence which we 
subsequently adduce, and the fact that the simple theme 
of two distressed lovers would call forth the same type 
of story in different minds, may explain some of the 
similarity. 

In the three principal stories mentioned above, the 
theme, on examination, is found to be the same and 
consists of two main elements : 

{a) the separation of two lovers by some obstacle ; 

{!)) their ruin brought about by an error which 

one holds in regard to the other, or by a 

misfortune, which, happening to one, the 

other shares. 

Pyramus and Thisbe are separated by a wall ; they 

attempt to meet at the tomb of Ninus, where nothing shall 

part them, but where Pyramus, thinking Thisbe dead, 

slays himself ; whereupon, Thisbe kills henself also. Hero 

and Leander are parted by the Hellespont, which Leander 

swims in order to reach Hero ; Hero's guiding light is one 



"^ Romeo e Giulietta, La Storia Degli Amanti Veronesi nelle Novelle 
Italiane e nella Tragedia di Shakespeare^ no'uamente tradotta da Cino 
Chiariniy Firenze, 1906, pp. xix-xx. This book contains reprints of 
Da Porto and Bandello. 

2Furness's Variorum RomeOy p. 408. 



INTRODUCTION xi 

night extinguished, and Leander loses heart and drowns ; 
Hero drowns herself on the following morning on seeing 
his body washed ashore. Isolde and Tristan are parted 
by precepts of honour, Isolde being married to Mark; 
Tristan has, moreover, killed a kinsman of Isolde, and 
is therefore the natural enemy of her people ; Isolde, 
however, goes to Tristan, but he dies through false news 
concerning her ; Isolde herself dies on the body of her 
lover, seeing his sad fate. 

Now taking Tristan and Isolde, the most northerly, and 
perhaps the most evolved of these tales (excepting Romeo), 
we see an advance on the other two : the obstacle between 
the lovers is no longer principally material, but is moral ; 
and the slaying of the kinsman is a new and impor- 
tant feature. These developments are carried further in 
Romeo. 

Besides these three old tales, however, there are two 
others not previously noticed in this^ connexion, and 
exceedingly popular in the Middle Ages, which also bear 
close analogy to Romeo ; these are Troilus and Cressida, and 
Floris and Blanchefleur. The story of the first pair of lovers 
briefly is, that Troilus, who scorns love, sees Cressida, and 
falls in love with her. Troilus pines ; his friend Pandarus 
comes to his aid with good counsel, and promises to win 
Cressida for him. Pandarus persuades Cressida, who pities 
Troilus, and finally consents to allow him to go to her 
bedside. They pass nights together, all their arrange- 
ments being made by the friendly Pandarus, their mutual 



xii INTRODUCTION 

messenger. Calchas, however, Cressida's father, has de- 
serted Troy and joined the Greeks, and he prevails on 
his new friends to ask for the exchange of Cressida for 
their own Antenor. The parliament of Troy consents to 
this. The grief of the lovers at the prospect of this parting 
is uncontrollable, and each is comforted by the philosophic 
Pandarus. Troilus goes to Cressida at night for the last 
time and bids her farewell as the day begins to dawn. 
Troilus is afraid her father will desire to wed her to some 
other man ; but Cressida swears constancy and promises to 
return in ten days. She is led to the Greek host by 
Diomedes, who loves her and woos her. His wooing is 
so successful that Cressida breaks her promise to Troilus and 
does not return. Letters pass between the lovers, and still 
Troilus hopes Cressida is true ; till one day Deiphobus 
captures the armour of Diomedes and Troilus sees thereon 
the brooch he has given Cressida : thereupon he swears 
vengeance on Diomedes and seeks every day to fight with 
him, but is slain by Achilles. The parallelism between this 
story and Romeo is too apparent to require pointing out. 

The romance of Troilus and Cressida is not of classical 
origin. The earliest version of it known to us is in 
Le Roman de Troie, by Benoit de Sainte-More,^ a Norman 
poet of the French court of our English Henry II. ^ Other 



I For a lengthy and able discussion of the Troilus story i^^ M. A. Joly's 
Benoit de Ste-More et le Roman de Troie^ Paris, 1870 ; and Jung's Origin 
and De-Tjelopment of the Story of Troilus and Crisejdey Chaucer Society, 
1907. 2 Joly, p. 109. 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

poets had treated of the siege of Troy before him, but 
in his book first is the history of Troilus. M. Joly holds 
that he produced his long poem between 1175 and 1185, 
but the now accepted date is about 1160.'^ Benoit's work 
became speedily famous ; the story became known in many 
lands, not only to the cultured people, but to the populace. 
It passed into histories and gestes and was a favourite theme 
of poets. Its glory was still further extended by a Latin 
remaniement of Benoit's poems by Guido delle Colonne of 
Messina, called the Htstoria Destructioms Trojae, written in 
1287.2 Guido's production became even more famous 
than Benoit's, and on the advent of printing, the presses of 
every land in Europe were soon actively reproducing his 
work.3 When Boccaccio retold the story in his Filostrato, 
he gave it new life and significance. He took his main 
outlines from Guido and Benoit, but he owed little more 
to them. He wove into the history the joy and anguish, 
the sweetness and the bitterness, of his own love-affair 
— for he, too, had lost his love, the beautiful Maria, 
whom he called Fiammetta, and had met at the Nea- 
politan court of Queen Giovanna ; and Jung shows, too, 
that his innovations are mainly due to borrowings from 
the early part of his own Filocolo, based on the medieval 
romance of Floris and Blanchefieur . Benoit had occupied 

1 ^ee Jung, chap. I. 

2 Testi Inediti di Storia Trojana (4 vols.), by Egidio Gorra, Turin, 1887. 
See vol. i., pp. 105-6. 

3 Joly, p. 500. 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

himself chiefly with the feelings of Briseida (as Cressida 
was then named) ; Boccaccio fixed attention chiefly on 
Troilus. In Benoit and Guido there was no Pandarus ; 
Boccaccio was solely responsible for his creation. 

The great Italian version of Floris and Blanchefieur is 
Boccaccio's Filocolo, I shall notice chiefly here the points 
which most interest us. Florio (Floris) was the son of 
King Felice of Spain who had killed Lelio, a Roman noble, 
husband to Giulia and father to Biancofiore (Blanchefieur), 
born after his death. Biancofiore was brought up with 
Florio at Felice's court and as the king noticed the growing 
love between the two young people, he sent his son away to 
Duke Feramonte in Montorio (corresponding to Mantua). 
The Duke tried unsuccessfully to turn the young man's 
thoughts from Biancofiore, who, meanwhile, had been 
induced by the king, through his steward, to serve the 
guests at a banquet with a poisoned pheasant, and had been 
on that account condemned to be burnt. Florio was 
warned by Venus and rescued Biancofiore. A rival to 
Florio arose in Fileno ; Florio became jealous, and would 
have killed him, had he not fled. Felice then sent 
Biancofiore away by merchants, who sold her to the 
Admiral, and she was put in a tower at Alexandria. 
Felice then made a sumptuous tomb and gave out that 
Biancofiore was dead. Florio went to the sepulchre and 
lamented bitterly, and wished for death ; his mother, however, 
told him the truth, and he went in search of Biancofiore, 
eventually finding her and passing through many adventures. 



INTRODUCTION xv 

The noticeable points are the name Giulia, the mention of 
Alexandria (cf. Masuccio Salernitano, later), the rivalry of the 
two families, the banishment of the hero, the incorrect 
publication of the heroine's death, and the hero's lamen- 
tations at the sepulchre. Whereas in Troilus the heroine 
was banished, the hero is banished in Florio ; Diomed and 
Fileno correspond to Paris ; Pandarus corresponds to 
Laurence.i The vacillation of Troilus and Cressida 
between joy and sorrow is the same as that of Romeo and 
Juliet ; each pair pass the night together and bid farewell 
at morn ; and both pairs are helped and comforted by the 
philosophical friend. It seems probable that these two 
stories, told by Boccaccio, passed, with others, into popular 
tales and gave rise to the legends which culminated in 
Romeo, and which, in their literary expression, came again 
under the direct influence of Boccaccio. Similar popular 
stories, which must have abounded in mediaeval Italy, were 
widely circulated in different forms by such people as the 
archer Pellegrino of Da Porto,^ and such evidence as we 
have tends to show that at an early date the Romeo legend 
was widespread in Italy. Masuccio Salernitano's story is 
told of Sienna, in Tuscany, and his book was printed in 
Naples ; Da Porto, whose history refers to Verona, printed 
his book in Venice ; Bandello's work was published in 
Lucca ; and the scene of Groto's tragedy was laid in Adria. 

I It should be remembered that the Nurse is a later development, due 
greatly to Brooke : the resemblance between Troilus and Romeo was, 
therefore, even greater in the earlier versions. 2 See p. xxxl, below. 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

All those romances in which the great feature is separation 
leading to disastrous complications, I name " Separation " 
romances. 

The source of the Romeo story, on one side, was probably, 
therefore, a *' Separation" romance, or Separation romances, 
current in Italy, which, in common with Troilus and Cressida 
and Florio and Biancojiore^ must have possessed : — 

{a) the meeting of two lovers, who, for some reason, 

probably the existence of a family feud, are obliged 

to keep their love secret ; 
(^) a philosophical confidant who advises them and 

assists them to meet and helps them ; 
{c) their betrothal ; 
{d) their separation ; 

{e) an affecting parting scene at dawning ; 
(/) the advent of a new lover, who becomes a great 

danger to the hero and heroine ; 
(g) disaster which ruins them. 

In common with Tristan and Isolde^ the Separation 
romance or romances, must have possessed : — 

{K) the slaying of one of the heroine's kinsmen by the 

hero, thus producing {et) above ; 
(i) an attempt made by one of the two to reach the 

other, probably in distress, perhaps on account of 

(/) above ; 

lit should be remembered that the Tristan story was well known in 
Italy in its Italian version. 



INTRODUCTION xvli 

(J) the ruin of the lovers, due to disaster, supposed or 
real, which has happened to one, again perhaps in 
connection with {/) above. 
But in Romeo itself another series of new and important 
features is found, the actual marriage of the lovers, the 
subterfuge of the sleeping potion/ and the burial of the 
heroine in the sepulchre. This constitutes a distinct inno- 
vation in the cycle, and may well have been borrowed from 
some other source and added to the story. Luckily there 
exists a Middle Greek romance of the fifth century, in the 
Ephesiaca of Xenophon of Ephesus, which proves the exist- 
ence of such a source : in this tale, Anthia, separated from her 
husband by misfortune, is rescued from robbers by Perilaus, 
who induces her, against her will, to consent to wed him ; 
but she procures a poison (as she believes) from Eudoxus, 
a physician, and drinks it, in order to escape. She is buried 
in great pomp, but having merely swallowed a sleeping 
potion, awakes, and is carried off by thieves who plunder 
the sepulchre. 2 The notable features are that Anthia is 
already married, is separated from her husband, is forced to 

1 Sir B. W. Richardson experimented with some mandrake obtained 
from Greece, and the conclusion is that it must have been this mandrake 
wine that the friar gave Juliet in Romeo. This was called "death-wine" 
by the old Greeks, and they used it for surgical operations, as we use 
chloroform, a dose having the effect of causing apparent death. — Daily 
Neivsy 23rd November, 1896. 

See Note in Dr. Furnivall's Introduction to Romeo^ Century S/iakspere, 
and note Brooke's description of the making of Laurence's powder, 
11. 2127-29. 

2 Dunlop's History of Prose Fiction, vol. i., p. 61 (ed. 188S). 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

consent to wed Perllaus, and, taking a potion, is buried as 
if dead. Similar incidents to some of these occur in the 
Babylon'ica of lamblichus/ taken, as the author tells us, from 
an Eastern book. Here Sinonis, beloved of Garmus, king 
of Babylon, flies with her lover, Rhodanes ; the lovers sleep 
one night in a sepulchre, and are thought to be corpses by 
their pursuers ; Sinonis is seized by the magistrate, who 
determines to send her to Babylon. The lovers provide 
themselves with poison, but their guards, divining their 
intention, substitute a soporific draught, which the lovers 
swallow.2 They awake from their sleep near Babylon. 
Sinonis stabs herself, but not mortally.^ 

J Dunlop, p. 16, seq. 

2 According to some Russian versions of the Solomon story, Salomonia 
is faithless, takes a narcotic and simulates death ; she is buried and dis- 
interred, and is then carried off by her paramour. (Dunlop, ii., p. 637.) 

3 Most of these incidents passed into Italian novels, and were used 
by Boccaccio. In his Decameron (Day 3, Novel 8), he tells the story of 
a certain Ferondo, who, taking a drug, was buried as if dead and was 
put into a dungeon. There he awoke and was led to believe he was in 
purgatory. The story of Girolamo and Salvestre (Day 4, Novel 8) also 
resembles the story of Romeo, and the story of Gcntil de' Carisendi and 
the wife of Niccoluccio is that of a woman who is buried as if dead. 
Her lover opens her vault at night and lies by her side. She recovers 
while he is there, and, after residing some time in his house, is restored 
to her husband. (Day 10, Novel 4.) 

A similar story to this, and more nearly approaching RomeOj is contained 
in the thirteenth question discussed before Fiammetta in Filocolo. A 
certain man had a fair wife who v/as loved by a knight, but who did not 
love him. The knight was called away to a neighbouring city : while 
there a messenger came and told him the lady was dead, and had been 
buried by her relatives. He resolved to kiss her dead form. After dusk 
he entered the city with one of his servants and made his way to the 



INTRODUCTION xix 

The romances of the Ephesiaca and Babyhnca type are 
also Separation romances of a kind, but their distinguishing 
feature is the subterfuge of the sleeping potion. On the 
success or failure of that everything depends. These 
romances I therefore call " Potion " romances. 

A second source of the Ro?7ieo story, therefore, was a 
Potion romance, or Potion romances, which possessed : — 
{a) two lovers, probably married, whose relations are 

endangered by 
{b) the advent of a new lover ; 
{c) the subterfuge of the sleeping potion obtained 

from 
{d) a physician or friend ; 
{e) the burial of the heroine, as if dead, 
{/) and probably the forcing open of the tomb by the 
hero at night. 
The coalition of the Separation and Potion romances 
was a simple process. The composite story would run as 
follows : ^ 

S = Separation ; P = Potion. 

1. S(a) 

2. S(^) = P(,/) 

3- S W 

sepulchre. Telling his servant to wait, he entered the tomb and em- 
braced the lady. He soon found some signs of life in her. He and his 
servant carried her to his house, wrapped in his mantle. She was sub- 
sequently returned to her husband. 

I I give this analysis at some length as it disposes of the frequent 
contention that the Romeo story is historical. 



XX INTRODUCTION 

4. S {/,) 
S.Sid) 

6. S (e) (together with the ladder incident, probably 

foreign to these sources). 

7. S(/) = P(^) 

8. P (c) 

9. P (.) 

10. P(/) = S{!) 

11. S(^)andS(y) 

As for the ladder incident, others occur in Ariosto's 
Orlando FuriosOy Book 5, in the story of Ginevra and Lur- 
canio,^ and again in our Matteo Bandello's novel oiTtmhreo 
d'l Car dona and Fenicia Llonata^^ though here the ladder is of 
wood. 

Even in its earliest known form the history of Romeo and 
Juliet was pathetic and beautiful ; dealing as it did with the 
ruin of a glorious youth dominated by the eternal and 
elemental passion of mankind, it could hardly have been 
otherwise : but the glamour and the immortality which it 
possesses to-day it owes to our and all men's Shakspere, 
who adopted it, and vitalised it by infusing into it a lyric 
rapture and youthful ecstasy. The tale was already well 
known when he touched it with his genius, not only in 



1 S,ee Harington's translation, reprinted by Furness, in his Variorum 
Much Ado about Nothings p. 296. 

2 See John Payne's translation for the Villon Society, reprinted by 
Furness, ib.^ p. 311. 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

England,^ but in most of the countries of Europe,^ and had 
already been employed for dramatic treatment : but its 
popularity in this country was mainly due to the poem of 
Arthur Brooke, which forms the text of our volume, and 
from which Shakspere drew most of the materials for his 
play. 

The Author of the Poem.— Of Arthur Brooke 
himself we know very little : our interest in him must always 
be principally due to his connexion with Shakspere. For us 
the great work and distinguishing feature of his life is his 
Tragicall History of Romeus aitd lullet; and he has left us 
little else. From his denunciation of the friars and their 
ways in his introduction " To the Reader," and from his 
other known volume on Scripture, we may see that he was 
a zealous Protestant. His words (11. 903-4), 

" I grant that I envy the bliss they lived in ; 
Oh, that I might have found the like, I wish it for no sin," — 

have been thought to signify that their writer was un- 
married : probably he was ; but these words, in all likeli- 
hood, owe their existence to another cause, not previously 
known, which we shall discuss later,3 and they may be taken 

1 Philotimus^ published in 1 5B3, mentions the story ; Thomas Delapeend 
gives its argument in his Pleasant Fable of Hermaphrodituz and Salmacisy 
1565 ; Rich, in his Dialogue het-iveen Mercury and a Soldier^ I574» tells 
us that the tragedy was figured on tapestry, so widely was it known j 
and Austin Saker mentions it in his NarbonuSy 1580. 

2 Due greatly to the work, of Da Porto and Bandello. 

3 See Appendix II. 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

as poetical sentiment employed merely to intensify the de- 
scription of the lovers' happiness. The other known book 
by our author is one entitled, " The Agreement of Sondry 
places of Scripture, seeming in shew to Jarre [jar], Seruing 
in stead of Commentaryes, not onely for these, but others 
lyke, Translated out of French, and nowe fyrst publyshed 
by Arthure Broke. Lucas Harrison, 1563." The printer 
tells us that the Author was absent from London at the 
time of printing, and could not, therefore, see the work 
through the press, and that he had been prevailed upon to 
leave this book behind him, ** Worthy in deede, for lawfull 
and vnspotted doctrine, to beare his Syres Name : howbeit, 
yet rough [on account of the author's absence], vnmete to 
match with many other his trauaylles, satisfieng the hygh 
expectation that fame had blowen of hym." On fol. 308 
are some verses by " Thomas Broke, the younger, to the 
Reader," wherein their author, after saying that joy cannot 
add one minute to life, continues : 

"Example, lo, in Broke before thine eye, 
Whose praised gifts in him did late abound, 
By shipwrack forced, alas, too soon to die. 
Helpless of all intombed lies underground." 

Brooke was, therefore, drowned in 1563, one year after 
the publication of his Romeus. His name and his poem 
seem to have speedily become well known. George Turber- 
vile in his Epitaphs, Epigrams, Songs a^td Sonnets, etc., 1570, 
has (pp. 143 b.-i44b.) a valuable poem in memory of our 
author, which, as it does not appear to have been given in 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

full before, save in Collier's scarce reprint of Turbervile, Is 
printed here : 

"An Epitaph on the death of Master Arthur Brooke, 
drowned in passing to Newhaven [t.e.y Havre]. 

"At point to end and finish this my Book, 
Came good report to me, and willed me write 
A doleful verse, in praise of Arthur Brooke, 
That age to come lament his fortune might. 

Agreed, quoth I, for sure his virtues were 
As many as his years in number few : 
The Muses him in learned laps did bear. 
And Pallas' dug this dainty Bab did chew. 

Apollo lent him lute for solace' sake 
To sound his verse by touch of stately string. 
And of the never fading bay' did make 
A laurel crown, about his brows to cling, 

In proof that he for metre did excel. 
As may be judged by Juliet and her mate : 
For there he showed his cunning passing well 
When he the tale to English did translate. 

But, what ? as he to foreign realm v/as bound. 
With others moe his sovereign queen to serve, 
Amid the seas unlucky youth was drowned. 
More speedy death than such one did deserve. 

Ay me, that time, thou crooked Dolphin,^ where 
Wast thou, Arion's help and only stay. 
That safely him from sea to shore didst bear ? 
When Brooke v/as drowned why wast thou then away ? 

If sound of harp thine ear delighted so 
And causer was that he bestrid thy back. 
Then doubtless thou moughtst well on Brooke bestow 

1 Original, Bayde. 2 0., Delphin. 



xxiv INTRODUCTION 

As good a turn to save him from the wrack. 

For sure his hand Arion's harp excelled, 
His pleasant pen did pass the other's skill, 
Whoso his book with judging eye beheld 
Gave thanks to him and praised his learned quill. 

Thou cruel Gulf, what meanst thou to devour 
With supping seas a jewel of such fame ? 
Why didst thou so with water mar the flower, 
That Pallas thought so curiously to frame ? 

Unhappy was the haven which he sought. 
Cruel the seas whereon his ship did glide. 
The winds so rough that Brooke to ruin brought, 
Unskilful he that undertook to guide. ' 

But sithens tears can not revoke the dead, 
Nor cries recall a drowned man to land : 
Let this suffice t' extol ^ the life he led 
And print his praise in house of Fame to stande, 

That they that after us shall be and live 

Deserved praise to Arthur Brooke may give." 

We are able to give for the first time some account of the 
circumstances under which Brooke was drowned : see 
Appendix III. 

Brooke, in his lines to the Reader, and Lucas Harrison in 
the Scriptural volume, speak of other works from Brooke's 
pen, but we know nothing of them. Turbervile's lines 
establish his authorship of Romeus, and his youth when he 
so unhappily died. 

Date of the Poem. — Brooke's statement "The 
eldest of them, lo, I offer to the stake, my youthful work " 

I O.J again glide. 2 0., extal. 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

(To the Reader, p. Ixvii.), with its context, have been thought 
to imply that his poem was an early production, which, 
later in life, he published, and for whose imperfections he 
desired to apologise ; but such a hypothesis will not bear 
investigation. The immediate original of the poem was 
Boaistuau's Histoires Tragiques ; and this was not published 
until 1559: Brooke's poem appeared in 1562; and the 
author could only have been referring to his present youth 
in the above statement. We know, too, from Turbervile 
that Brooke was very young when he died. 

Originals and Sources. — Considerable controversy 
has raged round the authenticity of the Rotneo legend. 
Alessandro Torri^ and Filippo Scolari were both convinced 
of the historical reality of the story of the two unfortunate 
lovers. There is little evidence, however, to support their 
contention. We are told- that the sepulchral stone of Romeo 
and Juliet, from their tomb, was bought, at high price, by 
John, Archduke of Austria. Direct evidence, apart from 
this, except the statement that the lovers lived in the days 
of Bartolommeo Delia Scala, there appears to be none. 
Early Italian historians, with a single exception to which 
we shall refer later, make no mention of our story ; even 
Sarayna,3 who, in 1 542, published Le Historie e fatti de^ 
Veronesi nelli tempi del popolo e Signori Scaligeri, and even 

1 In 183 1 Torri published in Pisa his Giulietta e Romeo, etCy nowa.- 
days, as Chiarini tells us, a rare book, wherein he reprinted the novels 
of Da Porto and Bandello, the poem of Clitia and other old composi- 
tions connected with the Romeo tale. Scolari was his friend. 

2 Chiarini, p. xii. 3 Chiarini, p. xii. j Furness, cit. Singer, p. 399. 

C 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

speaks of the time of Bartolommeo Delia Scala and mentions 
other Domestic tragedies, does not refer to it. The often- 
quoted lines from the sixth canto of Dante's Purgatorio, 1. io6 : 
" Vieni a veder Montecchi e Cappelletti, 

Monaldi e Filippeschi, uom sensa cura ! 

Color gia tristi, e coster con sospetti," i 

which have long been considered as referring to the rival 
parties of the Romeo story, cannot be held to be in any way 
connected. Dante's Capulets and Montagues were both 
component parts of the same Ghibelline party, and were 
both more or less reduced in circumstances through the 
neglect of the emperor Albert. Chiarini points out, more- 
over, that there is no record of a family of Capulets in 
Verona, and adds that, probably, what was originally the 
name of a political faction, became at a later date the 
surname of a family. 

There may or may not have been a Romeo and a Juliet 
by name, and they may or may not have been unfortunate 
lovers, but the facts above-mentioned and our previous 
analysis of their legend, render it extremely improbable 
that any part of their history, as we have it, can be true, 
except, perhaps, if they lived at all, their burial together. 

The earliest tale we know containing the elements of the 
Veronese legend is Masuccio Salernitano's romance of 

I Translated by Gary : — 

" Come see the Capulets and Montagues, 
The Filippeschi and Monaldi, man, 

Who car'st for nought ! Those sunk in grief, and these 
With dire suspicion rack'd." 



INTRODUCTION xxvii 

Mariotto Mignanelli of Sienna and Giannozza Saracini, 
the thirty-third novel of his Cinquante Novelle, published in 
Naples in 1476.^ In it Mariotto loved Giannozza, and 
could not marry her publicly ; an Augustine monk was, 
therefore, bribed to wed them in secret. Mariotto subse- 
quently struck a fellow-citizen in fight, so that the man 
died, and he was condemned by the Podesta to banishment. 
After asking his brother, Gargano, to keep him informed of 
affairs in Sienna, he went to his uncle Nicolo Mignanelli, 
a merchant in Alexandria. Giannozza was, meanwhile, 
being urged by her angry father to wed, and in order 
to evade this, conceived the idea of pretending death. 
She bribed the friar to compound her a sleeping potion 
which should cause her to sleep for three days : this she 
drank, was taken for dead, and was buried in the church 
of St. Augustine. She had previously written of her 
intentions to Mariotto, but her messenger and his ship were 
seized by pirates and her letter was lost. Mariotto's 
brother informed him by letter of her supposed death, and 
the unhappy lover returned to Sienna, determined to die 
at his wife's tomb. The friar had already removed her 
body, but Mariotto not knowing this, attempted to force 
open the vault, was seized in so doing, was recognised, 
racked and decapitated. Giannozza, disguised as a man, 
had meanwhile gone to Alexandria and heard of her 

I See Daniel, Romeus and Juliet^ etc., New Shakspere Society, 1875, 
p. iv. ; Chiarini, p. xxi. ; Furness's Variorum Romeo and Juliet (from 
Simrock), p. 399. 



xxviii INTRODUCTION 

husband's departure ; she returned to Sienna, to find he 
had been beheaded three days before. She retired to a 
nunnery and died broken-hearted.^ Masuccio calls on 
God to witness that all his tales happened in his own 
times. 

Whether Luigi Da Porto's Historia novellameiite ritrovata 
di due noh'di amanti,^ etc. (Venice c. 1530) was founded on 
Masuccio Salernitano's tale or not is uncertain : Da Porto's 
story may have been (and probably was) an independent 
record of the same legend. It contains the first mention of 
Romeo and Juliet ; and various editions of it were published 
during the sixteenth century. Da Porto says that the 
lovers lived in the days of Bartolommeo Delia Scala, that 
Romeo was already in love and followed his cruel mistress to 
the feast of Antonio Cappelletti, disguised as a nymph ; 
here he beheld Juliet, and for her at once forgot his old 
love. The lovers sat together after a dance, Marcuccio 
Guercio (Mercutio) with them, and spoke 3 : they met at night 
at Juliet's window and their love increased. They resolved 

1 That this was probably but one recorded form of a popular legend 
which became localised in different places, and of which there were 
slightly different versions, is supported by the difference between the 
Argument and the conclusion of the tale. In the novel Giannozza 
retires to a nunnery and dies : in the Argument she dies of grief on the 
body of her lover : " La donna no'l trova in AUessandria, ritorna a 
Siena, e trova I'amante decoUato, e ella sopra il suo corpo per dolore si 
muore." Note that in Romeo Laurence offers to find Juliet a nunnery, 
but that she dies on her lover's body. 

2 Chiarini's reprint, p. i ; Daniel's epitome, p. 5. 

3 Chiarini's reprint, p. 7. 



INTRODUCTION xxix 

on secret marriage, and Friar Lorenzo was induced to wed 
them. Shortly after this occurred a street-fight in which 
Pvomeo, after hesitation, attacked Tebaldo Cappelletti 
(Tybalt) in anger, and slew him ; Romeo was then banished 
for ever from Verona, and took leave of Juliet at the 
friar's cell,^ leaving Lorenzo and Juliet's servant (Pietro ; 
Shakspere's Peter) to inform him of all nevv's, and hoping to 
get his banishment repealed. Juliet broke down in grief, 
and her parents were led to believe that marriage alone 
could help their daughter, who was then about eighteen 
years old.^ Thereupon they commenced arrangements with 
a count of Lodrone (later, Paris) to that end. This was 
told to Juliet by her mother, Giovanna,3 but the daughter 
expressed disapproval of the match to both her parents, and 
said she would rather marry a Montague or die, than wed the 
chosen Paris ; thus arousing her father's anger. She sent 
this intelligence through Pietro to Romeo, who replied, desir- 
ing her still to maintain their mutual secret. The threats of 
Antonio drove her to consult Friar Lorenzo, who for the 
sake of Romeo's friendship, and to prevent open scandal, 
gave her a powder (una polvere) which would cause her to 
lie as if dead for forty-eight hours.4 She would then be 
buried in the tomb of the Cappelletti, and he could carry 
her to his cell where she might remain till she could escape, 
disguised as a monk, to Mantua. Meanwhile he would 



I Chiarini's reprint, p. 15. - lb., p. 17. 

3 Ib.f p. 18. 4 Ib.^f. 23. 



XXX INTRODUCTION 

send a letter which she was to write to Romeo, by a brother, 
telling him of their doings. Juliet took the powder, 
returned home and professed submission to her father. At 
night she asked one of her servants for a cup of cold water, 
to refresh her, and mixing the potion, drank it, declaring 
in the presence of the servant and her aunt : Mio padre 
per certo contra mio volere non mi dara marito, s'io 
potro.i The friar's messenger was, meanwhile, ineffectually- 
trying to reach Romeo. In the morning Juliet was found 
on her bed, apparently dead ; and afterwards, with great 
mourning, was laid in the family vault. Pietro, not being 
able to meet Lorenzo, who had left the city for a time, 
departed to Mantua and informed Romeo that Juliet was 
dead. Romeo paled and became like a dead man, and 
drew his sword to kill himself,^ but was restrained by 
Pietro, whom he finally dismissed, giving him a brown 
garment that he had. He resolved to return to Verona, 
and departed disguised as a peasant (contadino), taking 
with him a small bottle of poison (una guastadetta d'acqua 
di serpe) that he had in a chest. He arrived unnoticed in 
Verona at night, opened the vault, and with the aid of his 
lantern beheld the body of Juliet, whom he addressed in 
sorrow ; he then swallowed his poison, and embracing his 
love, awaited death.3 The strength of the powder was 
now decreasing, and Juliet soon awoke and speedily dis- 
covered in whose arms she lay, having at first thought that 

I Chiarini's reprint, p. 25. 2 li,.^ p. 29. 

3 Ib.y p. 32. 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

Lorenzo had wronged her. The lovers mingled their 
lamentations and expressions of affection. Lorenzo at 
this point, knowing the virtue of the powder would fail 
about then, arrived with his faithful companion, and saw 
the two lovers. Romeo died and Juliet called for a knife 
to kill herself The friar promised to find her a place 
in some holy convent ; ^ Juliet, however, held her breath 
for a good time, and finally, with a great cry, expired on 
her lover's body. The watch arrived and seeing the light 
and hearing the noise, interrogated Lorenzo ; the friar 
extinguished the light, closed the tomb and refused to 
answer their questions. The Cappelletti were apprised, 
and the prince was constrained to hold an enquiry. 
Lorenzo equivocated, but the tomb was opened by his 
fellow monks, and the truth revealed. The rival families 
were then reconciled, and the lovers were buried together 
with great ceremony.^ In his Forewords Da Porto tells us 
that he learnt the tale in his soldier days from a Veronese 
archer named Pellegrino, like all his townsmen, a fine 
talker, and an expert soldier. Da Porto's narrative very 
speedily became widely known, and apparently travelled to 
France. Adrian Sevin's History of Burglipha and Halquad- 
rich (i 541-2) appears to be an echo or imitation of it. It 
could hardly have been independent. It possesses little 
interest for Shakspere students. 3 



I Chiarini's reprint, p. 35. - Ib.^ p. 40. 

3 For an epitome, see Daniel, p. viii. 



xxxii INTRODUCTION 

The next Italian version of Romeo after Da Porto was a 
poem entitled, Vlnfelice Amove dei due Fedelissimi Amanti 
Giulia t Romeo, written by Clitia (or Clizia) to her Ardeo (1553), 
and published by Giolito in Venice. The " authoress " and 
her Ardeo cannot now be properly identified, but conjecture 
has It that the poem was written by Gherardo Bolderi.^ Clitia 
states at the start that 150 years had passed since the 
Capulets and the Montagues, of old at feud, had forgotten 
somewhat their enmity and the Romeo story began. If 
then the date which Da Porto and Bandello assign to 
the tragedy be accepted (i 301-4), the date of Clitia's 
composition must be about 1453. This would make 
Clitia the earliest Romeo record ; but considerations of 
style do not point to so early a date ; considerations of 
text lead to the belief that Clitia followed Da Porto ; and 
it is highly improbable that the MS. could have lain 100 
years before publication. Filippo Scolari^ supposes that 
Clitia wrote little previous to publication. Although Clitia's 
version follows Da Porto, it differs in several particulars : — 
(i) La4y Capulet here first supposes Tybalt's death to be 
the cause of Juliet's sorrow after Romeo's banishment. (2) 
Romeo does not attempt his life on hearing of Juliet's sup- 
posed death. (3) He gives Pietro a gold chain (instead of 
a garment, as before) on dismissing him, and sends him to 
tell the Friar of his coming. (4) Pietro does not do this, 

1 Chiarini, p. xviii. 

2 5m la pietosa morte di G. Cappelletti e R. Monteccki. Lettere Critiche 
de Filippo Scolariy Livorno, 1831, p. 37, 



INTRODUCTION xxxiii 

and is no more heard of. (5) Romeo dies in Juliet's arms 
before the Friar arrives, who (6) comes to the tomb alone. 
(7) The poem then ends abruptly with Juliet's death. ^ 

After Clitia came Matteo Bandello with his Novello of 
Giulietta e Romeo published in Lucca in 1554 in the second 
of his three volumes. Dedicated to Girolamo Fracastro, 
Bandello, in the main, follows Da Porto, whose narrative he 
enlarges and ornaments, ^ but he appears also to have bor- 
rowed from Clitia. In Bandello the story approaches yet 
more to its Shaksperian form. Romeo's first love-affair is 
here dwelt upon, and he goes to the Capulet feast, not to 
pursue his cruel lady, but on the advice of a friend to behold 
other beauties.3 He goes m.asked, but not as a nymph (as 
in Da Porto). Here, too, we first meet the Nurse, from 
whom Juliet learns Romeo's identity.4 The Nurse carries 
messages between the lovers, and the parting takes place 
at the heroine's house. The county is now called Paris, 
conte di Lodrone ; 5 the Friar is named Lorenzo da 
Reggio;^ and Pietro (in Da Porto, Juliet's servant) becomes 
Romeo's man. Juliet drinks the potion in secret,'' and is 
thought to have died of grief.^ Lorenzo's messenger is a 
friar named Anselmo, who, arriving at Mantua, goes to the 

1 Daniel, p. ix : this poem was printed by Torri. A description of 
Clitia's poem will be found in The Shakspere Society's Papers^ 1849, 
Vol. iv., Art. n. 

2 Nelle sue [Bandello' s] mani Varido racconto del Da PortOy cost spesso 
monotono e scolorito si allarga e si a'wiva. — Chiarini, p. xxv. 

3 Chiarini's reprint, p. 52. 4 lb., p. 59. 5 Ib.^ p. 76. 
6/Z»., p. 63. 7 //?'., p. 89. 8/^., p. 91. 



xxxiv INTRODUCTION 

Franciscan monastery there, to get a companion, and is there 
detained in consequence of death through plague.^ Pietro 
here first acquaints his master with news of Juliet's supposed 
death, having seen her carried to the sepulchre,^ and is sent 
back to Verona to provide instruments for opening the 
tomb. 3 Romeo writes to his father the whole story in a 
letter, settles his affairs, and taking the poison with him,4 he 
sets out on horse, disguised as a German,5 for Verona, where 
he meets Pietro. They go to the tomb at night; Romeo gives 
his man his letter, and tells him he obtained the poison from 
a certain Spolentino in Mantua,*^ and directs him to close 
the sepulchre. He then takes the poison, and embracing 
Juliet, awaits death. Juliet then awakes, and seeing a figure 
by her in a German costume is startled, and thinks Lorenzo 
has betrayed her. 7 She soon discovers it is her Romeo. 
The lovers mutually lament and express their love. Romeo 
asks forgiveness of the dead Tebaldo. ^ Lorenzo, with an- 
other friar, now comes to the sepulchre, and meeting Pietro, 
asks concerning Romeo, while Romeo himself is dying. 
Lorenzo beholds the lovers, and offers to find Juliet a 
nunnery, as before ; but she dies on the body of her lover. 
The two friars and Pietro think she has fainted and try to 
revive her, when the watch arrive 9 and arrest them. Barto- 

I Chlarini's reprint, p. 93. 2 Ib.y p. 95. 3 lb., p. 98. 

4 " un' ampoletta piena d'acqa velenosissima," lb., p. 99, but after- 
wards described as in Da Porto : " I'acqua, che del serpe I'uom appella," 
p. Ill ; see also p. loi. 

5 lb., p. 100. 6 lb., p. loi. 7 lb., p. 103. 

8 lb., p. 105. 9 lb., p. no. 



INTRODUCTION xxxv 

lommeo examines them on the affair, and they are pardoned. 
The Capulets and Montagues make peace, and the lovers are 
buried together in great pomp. The Novello concludes 
with the lovers' epitaph.^ 

Bandello's tale speedily acquired a greater popularity than 
Da Porto's : it was translated by Boaistuau (or Boisteau) in^ 
his Histoires Tragiqves, Extraktes des Oeuvres Italie7mes de 
Bandel, & mises en nostre langue Fran pise j par Pierre Boaistuau 
surnomme Launay, natif de Bretaigiie, Paris, 1559. /Here it 
forms the Histotre Troisiesme, De deux amans, dont Pvn mourtit 
de venin, V autre de tristesse (p. 39). Boaistuau in his Adver- 
iissemeni au Lecteur begs the reader not to find it ill that he 
has not closely followed Bandello's style, which he considers 
rude and meagre, and says that he has recast all afresh. 
One is not able to concur with Boaistuau in his opinion as 
to Bandello, but the important point is that in his recasting 
he made various changes, which contribute in the develop-.^ 
ment towards Shakspere. The scene with the Apothecary 
is expanded from Bandello's hint.^ Romeo's man and 
Laurens arrive after Romeo's demise, while Juliet still 
sleeps, a circumstance which may be due to influence of 
Clitia, or to another version of the legend. Juliet 
refuses to leave the tomb. When the servant and friar 
withdraw on hearing a noise, Juliet stabs herself with 
Romeo's dagger. Laurens and his companion are arrested 



1 Ib,y p. III. ^ee Daniel's epitome, which I used for basis, p. x. 

2 Boaistuau^ edition 1559, p. 76. 



xxxvi INTRODUCTION 

by the watch and imprisoned. The bodies are set out to 
view on a stage, and the Prince holds an enquiry. Laurens 
and the servant are pardoned ; the Nurse is banished ; the 
apothecary is raclced and hanged ; and the lovers are buried 
in a sumptuous tomb. 

The story was now to have literary record in England, for 
from Boaistuau's Histoire Arthur Brooke made his poem, 
published in 1562, and Painter subsequently made his trans- 
lation, published in his Palace of Pleasure, Vol. II., in 1567. 
Brooke's use of Boaistuau will be dealt with in the criticism 
of his book. A criticism of Painter follows. 

This constitutes the direct line towards Shakspere ; we 
have now to go back somewhat, and consider the more im- 
portant literature, apart from the above versions, which had 
sprung from the Romeo legend. 

The single exception among Italian historians who gives 
credence and record to the Romeo story is Girolamo delle 
Corte, who relates the tragedy in his Storia di Verona as 
actually happening in 1303; but as his account appeared 
for the first time in 1594, when Da Porto, Bandello, Boais- 
tuau, Brooke, Painter, and Shakspere had already written 
their works, and when the legend had spread over Italy, it 
has no value whatever as history. Girolamo delle Corte 
appears to have merely accepted the popular tradition as 
circumstantial, and to have adopted it to enliven his work. 

Concerning the blind poet Luigi Groto's La Hadriana 
(1578), a great deal has been written. In 1799, Joseph 
Cooper Walker published his Historical Memoir on Italian 



INTRODUCTION xxxvii 

Tragedyy in which he claimed that Shakspere was cognisant 
of Groto's play. W. W. Lloyd, ^ in Singer's Shakspere, added 
considerably to Walker's evidence, and, in our opinion, came 
one step nearer the truth, in inferring that Shakspere used 
some English adapta tion of Groto. From a cursory examina- 
tion, La Hadr'iana would appear to be simply a transference 
of the Romeo story to the "glorious city of Adria," of more 
ancient times, with frequent borrowings from Da Porto, on 
whose novel the plot appears to be based. Cino Chiarini, 
however, refers it to Bandello ; ^ and the truth is that both 
novels seem to have contributed towards its construction. 
The consensus of critical opinion is that there is no 
connexion between Luigi Groto and Shakspere, and in 
consideration of this point the following analysis is made. 

La Hadr'iana possesses in common with Da Porto and with 
no other Italian work: (i) The ironical statement that the 
heroine might rather wed their family enemy (a Montague 
or Latino) than him who has been chosen by her parents 
(Paris or the Sabine prince). 3 (2) The heroine's asking for 
water in the night to quench her thirst, but really to mix 



1 Furness, cit. Lloyd, p. 402, %eq. An epitome of La Hadriana and 
an examination of Walker's and Lloyd's arguments is given in Daniel, 
pp. xxii.-xxxii., and of this epitome I make use in my examination. 
A thorough comparison between Groto's play and Shakspere's will be 
found in Giuseppe Chiarini's 5^«^i 5/i^/^j/)<?d;rid!K/, Livorno, 1896, pp. 243- 
269. 

2 C. Chiarini, p. xxvi. 

3 Daniel's epitome, p. xxiv., and %ee p. xxxi ; our epitome of Da Porto, 
above, p. xxix. 



xxxviii INTRODUCTION 

her potion/ (3) her drinking it in the presence of the 
servant,^ and (4) her statement before the servant that her 
father (Capulet or Mezentio) should not wed her that 
^^7'^ (5) The gift by the hero of his cloak to the mes- 
senger who brought the news of the heroine's supposed 
death. 

In common with Bandello, La Hadriana possesses : (i) The 
character of the Nurse as confidante and go-between. 4 (2) 
The parting of the lovers at the heroine's house, where the 
hero arrives by stealth.5 

The conclusion in La Hadriana jh.oyjQ.ve.r, is different from 
that in both Da Porto and Bandello ; in Groto's tragedy, 
the heroine stabs herself, and the hero dies before the Mago 
arrives. This is precisely the ending in Boaistuau.^ 

Apart from these considerations, moreover, there are a 
number of particulars in which Groto's Hadriana agrees 
only with Shakspere's Romeo. These are : 

(i) The hero's talk of his readiness to die in the parting 
scene with the heroine (in Groto, Latino offers his sword to 



1 Daniel, p. xxv. ; our epitome, p. xxx. 

2 Ib.y p. xxv. ; our epitome, p. xxx. It should be noted, however, 
that in Groto this servant is the Nurse, who corresponds to the Nurse 
in Bandello, and who, of course, saw her mistress to bed. 

3 Ib.y p. xxvi. ; our epitome, p. xxx. 

4 lb., p. xxii., etc. ; our epitome, p. xxxiii. 

5 Ib.y p. xxiii. ; our epitome, p. xxxiii. 

6 lb, p. xxvi. ; above, p. xxxv. In Clitia, too, Romeo dies before 
Friar Tricastro (Laurence) arrives, but here, as in Da Porto, etc., 
Giulia dies by holding her breath. 



INTRODUCTION xxxix 

Hadriana and puts his life in her hands). ^ (2) The entry of 
the Nurse at the conclusion of the parting scene. ^ (3) Her 
interference in the arranging of the second wedding (with 
Paris or the Sabine prince). 3 (^) The ironical words, in 
one case by the mother to the daughter and in the other by 
the daughter to the mother, that the daughter might rather 
wed the enemy who has slain her kinsman (Romeo or Latino) 
than her father's choice.4 (5) The consolation of the be- 
reaved fathers (Capulet and Mezentino) — who, in these two 
plays alone, give vent to their sorrow, — by a councillor (in 
Romeo by Laurence), in both cases the idea being to console 
the father with philosophical reflections.5 (6) The return of 
the Friar's and the Mago's letters by their messengers. ^ 
(7) The mention of both poisoning and stabbing at the 
heroine's death, — in Groto's play, Hadriana tells the Mago 
she has poisoned herself, and afterwards stabs herself; in 
Shakspere Juliet chides dead Romeo for leaving none of 
the poison, and also afterwards stabs herself.7 

1 Daniel, p. xxiii. ; Shakspere, III,, v., 17. 

2 Ib.^ p. xxiii. ; Shakspere, III., v., 37. 

3 Ib.^ p. xxiv. ; Shakspere, III., v., 169 and 214-227. 

4 Mentioned before in reference to Da Porto, but as there can be no 
direct connexion between Da Porto and Shakspere this case is cited ; 
Daniel, pp. xxiv.-xxxi. ; Shakspere, III., v., 122. There may be con- 
nexion between the names Latino and Romeo. 

Daniel, p. xxv. ; Shakspere, IV., v., 65-83. 

6 Ib.y p. xxxi. ; Shakspere, V., ii. 

T Ib.y p. xxvi. ; Shakspere, V., iii., 161. Note that Juliet calls 
for a knife in Da Porto also, but does not die of poison. See p. xxxi. 
above. 



xl INTRODUCTION 

Besides these cases there are verbal similarities and parallel- 
isms of idea. When the lovers are parting in La Hadriana, 
Latino exclaims : 

" S'io non erro, e presso il far del giorno. 

Udite il rossignuol, che con noi desto, 

Con noi geme fra i spini, e la nigiada 

Col pianto nostro bagna I'herbe. Ahi lasso, 

Rivolgete la faccia a I'Oriente. 

Ecco incomincia a spuntar I'alba fuori, 

Portando un' altro sol sopra la terra, 

Che pero dal mio Sol resteri vinto." 
" If I err not, the lamp of day is nigh. 

List to the nightingale, that wakes with us. 

With us laments mid thorns ; and now the dew. 

Like our tears, pearls the grass. Ah me, alas. 

Turn toward the east thy face. 

There now begins the morning to break forth. 

Bringing another sun above the earth 

That yet by my sun shall rest vanquished." i 

Compare this with the parting of Romeo and Juliet, 
III., V. Similar resemblance was detected by Walker in 
the Mago's and the Friar's words to the heroine about the 
sleeping-potion, and in their speeches concerning their 
plans for the future.^ W. W. Lloyd pointed out the 
resemblance between Latino's and Romeo's antithetical 
definition of love.3 Daniel showed the resemblance between 
Latino and Romeo, in that they both address the sepulchre 
on going there to die, and queried a possible connexion 

I Daniel, p. xxvii. 2 Ib.^ p. xxviii. 

3 lb. ,• Furness, cit. Lloyd, p. 402. 



INTRODUCTION xH 

between the two Nurses' references to the childhood of the 
heroines.^ The majority of these incidents in Shakspere 
were certainly not taken from Brooke. 

Whatever the reason of this curious similarity may be, 
there can be no doubt that it exists. Individual instances 
may not be convincing, but taken as a whole, these cases of 
very apparent relationship form an argument which may not 
be brushed aside without great consideration. 

Now, viewing the evidence before us, it becomes apparent 
that Groto either made use of Da Porto, Bandello, and 
Boaistuau, all three, or borrowed from some third Italian 
source a novel or play, now unknown, which led Boaistuau 
to alter his ending, and which was based on, or similar to. 
Da Porto and Bandello. Similar as Groto's tragedy is in 
general outline to the Romeo story, an examination reveals 
the absence of many significant incidents and shows a differ- 
ence of treatment, and the play seems to be too distantly 
removed from the story of the Italian novels to warrant the 
assumption of immediate connexion with them ; and it is 
highly improbable, too, that Groto made use of Boaistuau. 
If then, as seems likely, there was a third Italian version of 
the Romeo story, other than Clitia, it must have been some 
adaptation or translation of this, which, apart from Brooke, 
influenced Shakspere.^ In this way, and in this way only, 



1 Daniel, pp. xxx.-xxxi. 

2 There appears to be no evidence that Groto's tragedy was known 
in England at the time of the composition of Romeo^ and even though it 
were, it is hard to believe that it could have been associated with that 



xlii INTRODUCTION 

can we explain the similarities between La Hadriana and 
Romeo, and the fact that Shakspere's tragedy reverted in two 
particulars to the plot as found in Da Porto, — in the 
heroine's ironical words to her mother that she would rather 
wed a Montague than Paris, and in Peter's position as 
servant to Juliet (in Bandello, etc., he became Romeo's 
man). 

From this we pass to the Dutch play of Romeo en Jtdiette, 
written in Alexandrine couplets by Jacob Struijs in 1630, 
but not published till 1634.^ The text in Struijs is based to 
a large extent on the prose of Boaistuau, but at many 
points it departs from that version and coincides with 
Shakspere in incidents which the English dramatist did not 
obtain from Brooke. 

Struijs agrees with Boaistuau in ; {a) the names of the 
characters ; {b) large portions of the dialogue ; {c) Juliette's 
comments on Thibout's death and Romeo's deed; 
{d) Capellet's words to Juliette on her refusal to accept 
Paris ; {e) in the incident of the fray which proved fatal 
to Thibout ; and in many other points.^ 

Struijs agrees exclusively with Brooke in the incident in 
which Juliet deceives the Nurse. In the Dutch play and 

play. Ben Jonson mentioned La Hadriana in his Volpone, produced in 
1605, and although Florio mentioned it in his list oi Authors and Books, 
etc., 161 1, he omitted it from his earlier list in 1598. {See Daniel, 
p. xxxi.) 

1 See Romeo and Juliette, by Harold de Wulf Fuller, reprinted from 
Modern Philology, July, 1906. 

2 Fuller, pp. 2, 3. 



INTRODUCTION xliii 

Brooke it comes after Juliet's visit to Laurence (11. 2288- 
2316); in Shakspere it occurs immediately after the 
expression of Capulet's wrath (III. v. 213-242); in 
Boaistuau and Painter there is no such conversation.^ 

Struijs agrees exclusively with Shakspere or resembles 
him in the following points : 

(a) There is great similarity in the two plays in Romeo's 
description of Juliet at the feast,^ (I?) in the incident of the 
first night meeting in the moonlight,^ (c) in the opening of 
the scene where Laurence is discovered in front of his cell, 
before the entry of Romeo,4 and (^) in Tybalt's desire to 
attack Romeo at the feast. 5 (^) They agree in the main 
features of the fray in which Mercutio (in Struijs called 
Phebidas) and Tybalt were killed,^ (and although the general 
outline is the same there is great difference in language and 
treatment). {/) They agree in the fact that Romeo 
lamented over his misfortunes in the cell of Laurence,^ and 
in the entry of the Nurse at that time, (g) They 
resemble each other in the parting of the lovers.^ 

Here, again, we are presented with the same alternatives 
as in the case of Luigi Groto and the Italian novelists, 

1 Fuller, pp. 4-6 ; this is not the only point in which Brooke and 
Struijs agree, as against Boaistuau, as we show later, pp. xlv., liii.-iv., Ivii. 

2 lb., p. 7. 3 Iky p. 8. 4 Ib.y p. 9. 

5 Ib.y p. 10, but in Struijs, Thibout recounts this afterwards, and 
says he refrained for fear of dishonouring the company. 

6 Jb.y p. 12. 

7 Ib.y pp. 13-14; we return to this later, as it occurs also in Brooke. 

8 Ib.j pp. 15-16. 



xliv INTRODUCTION 

either that Struijs used Boaistuaii and Brooke and Shakspere, 
or that he used Boaistuau for basis and some now lost 
composition which influenced alike Brooke's poem and 
Shakspere's play. 

Now it becomes very apparent in several ways that 
Struijs did not pilfer Shakspere. He omits connecting 
Paris with the final catastrophe, following Boaistuau in this 
as in the three nocturnal meetings between the lovers, and 
he lacks that perfect tightening-up and compression of time 
characteristic of Shakspere's play. In a very able chapter 
Mr. Fuller examines the striking verbal similarities between 
the two dramatists, and points out, what is very apparent, 
that the text of Struijs seems in no way a copying of Shak- 
spere, but rather, in the points of resemblance, like a cruder 
and more prolix original which gave rise to the stronger 
and more concentrated utterances of the English poet. 
What seems a mere hint in Struijs is worked out with 
dramatic beauty in Shakspere, and small incidents in the 
latter like the fear of Paris' page and the sleeping of 
Balthasar in the churchyard have their counterpart in 
Struijs, where Pedro, Romeo's man, is afraid of ghosts and 
sits down to sleep. Moreover, the Nurse, in Struijs is 
not a comic character,^ which she most certainly would 
be had Struijs followed Shakspere. 

Apparently, then, Struijs did not use Shakspere, and the 
only other explanation left to us, is that the latter himself 

I Fuller, pp. 19-20. I have not space to note all Mr. Fuller's 
examples : these may suffice. 



INTRODUCTION xlv 

made use of an original accessible also to the former. It 
becomes apparent, too, that such an * original' antedated 
Brooke, firstly, because Brooke must have borrowed from 
it in the Nurse's advice to Juliet to wed Paris, and in 
Romeo's lamentations at the friar's cell,^ and secondly, 
because the *■ original ' did not take from Brooke the comic 
character of the Nurse or Romeo's sorrow when separated 
from Juliet, the former of which was, as Mr. Fuller says, 
" gratuity for any dramatist." In fixing the date of this 

* original,' which must have been English, Mr. Fuller 
places it between 1559 (the date of Boaistuau's Histoires) 
and 1562 (the date of Brooke), apparently inferring that 
this * original' was based on Boaistuau, and hence explaining 
the debt of Struijs to the latter. I see no reason to 
support this view. The Boaistuau passage in Struijs, given 
by Mr. Fuller himself, is so similar to its original that one 
IS forced to believe that Struijs borrowed either from the 
French Novelist direct, or from his early Dutch trans- 
lation ; and as Shakspere employed both Brooke and the 

* original ' in composing his play, so Struijs may have used 
Boaistuau and the 'original' in composing his. These 
considerations lead to important conclusions. They mean 
that the earlier * original' was not necessarily founded on 
Boaistuau, although its date could not have been many 
years prior to 1562.2 

1 Fuller, p. 22 ; see pp. xliii., liii,-iv., Ivii. 

2 Brooke says he "lately" saw the "same argument" set forth on 
the stage, and considering the condition of the English drama prior to 



xlvi INTRODUCTION 

Mr. Fuller concludes that this lost * original ' was a play, 
firstly, because Brooke says that there was an earlier play on 
this subject, and secondly, because this type of literature 
could most easily have travelled to Holland through the 
agency of an English theatrical company. We know that 
Brooke borrowed from some source other than Boaistuau, 
and that he says he saw an earlier play on Romeo ; but the 
evidence for Mr. Fuller's absolute contention is very scanty. 
Were the * original' certainly a play, one would expect to 
find resemblance between Shakspere and Struijs in the 
arrangement of scenes, but it is difficult to discover any such 
resemblance, the means adopted by the one to further the 
action are, at different points, distinct from those adopted 
by the other. What happened at the feast has, in Struijs, 
to be told in narrative by Romeo and Thibout, and one 
scene is given up to Romeo's farewell to Verona. Notwith- 
standing this, however, the supposition that the lost link is 
a play, is probably correct ; but one must insist, in regard 
to the paucity of the evidence, that this is not certain. 

Here, then, we are led to believe again that there was 
a source from which Shakspere drew, other than Brooke ; 
and we have to remember that this was precisely the 
conclusion we arrived at, from a consideration of Luigi 
Groto, Boaistuau, and the Italian novels. The question 
naturally suggests itself as to whether the source from 
which Struijs drew was that adaptation of a play or tale 

1562, it seems hardly possible to date the unknown source earlier than 
1555- 



INTRODUCTION xlvii 

based on, or similar to, Da Porto and Bandello to which we 
previously referred. It may be thought highly probable 
that this was so, and we may well believe that there could 
hardly be two unknown English sources from which 
Shakspere borrowed; but, although I accept this probability 
in my chart of the development of the Romeo story, there 
is only inference to support the case. 

Lope de Vega's tragi-comedy Los Castelvhes y Monteses ' 
and Don Francisco de Rojas* Los Bandos de Verona, both of 
early date, were based on the version of Bandello. The 
early German version, Romeo undh Julietta, extant probably 
in iSi^y was based on Shakspere's text, of which it is little 
more than an indifferent remodelling. 

The rough draft of a Latin tragedy Romeiis et Julietta in 
the British Museum (Sloane MS. 1775, privately printed 
by Dr. Gollancz) is based on Brooke's poem. It is 
evidently the author's holograph MS., and as in an adjacent 
composition in the same hand there is mention of Joseph 
Barnes the Oxford printer, and Rex Platonicus, by Sir Isaac 
Wake, which itself has a reference to an oration of August, 
1605, the Latin text must certainly have been composed 
early in the 17th Century, and can have no immediate 
connexion with Shakspere.^ 



1 Both this and the following play were translated by F. W. Cosens 
and printed privately in 1869. An epitome of Lope de Vega, so trans- 
lated, is given by Furness in his Variorum Romeo, p. 470. 

2 Fuller, p. 43. The MS. contains, besides, a madrigal to the author 
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1 INTRODUCTION 

Criticism of Brooke's Text. — DifFerent authorities 

have held the most contrary opinions concerning our author's 
work. Schlegel says : "There can be nothing more diffuse, 
more wearisome, than the rhyming history which Shakspere's 
genius, Mike richest alchemy,' has changed to beauty and to 
worthiness." Verplanck calls it, with all its faults, a noble 
poem, and Hudson thinks it has considerable merit. A close 
criticism of Brooke's poem does not reveal any great powers 
on the part of its author, and most of the virtues that it has 
are borrowed. 

Brooke's poem, however, is a very able translation of 
Boaistuau. It renders the sense of its original very faith- 
fully, and in places follows the text with absolute accuracy. 
So close is Brooke's text to Boaistuau's at times that a perusal 
of the latter elucidated several words in the English which 
were otherwise not quite clear. 

Brooke's faults are immediately apparent ; they are just 
the faults of a youthful poet of his time. He handles his 
metre well, but it was little suited to his theme. His poem 
often displays a good imagination, and possesses delicate 
sentiment, but contains endless and tiresome repetition of the 
same ideas and images. Cupid, Fortune, and the three 
Fates are referred to and apostrophised till one is weary of 
them. Brooke affected that bombastic and grandiloquent 
style which was then coming into vogue, and which was 
characterised by : (a) excessive alliteration ; {If) frequent 
classical allusions ; (c) a curious form of" unnatural " natural 
history, as Collier called it; (^) didactic harangues; (e) 



INTRODUCTION li 

lengthy soliloquies ; (/") balanced antithesis ; (g) extravagant 
description and artificial sentiment. Brooke was fond of 
alliteration, and indulged in it to excess : — 

For delving deeply now in depth of deep despair (1. 1081.) 

He often uses half-line rhymes. His speeches are generally 
tediously prolix and didactic, and some of his soliloquies, 
dealing with the subtlest and purest emotions and ideas, are 
expressed at such length, and with such incongruity of 
metaphor, that they seem to be almost satirical and parodical. 
Brooke's faults are faults of excess ; and a simile is sometimes 
so strained and elaborated that the theme itself is quite ob- 
scured by it {see 11. 1361-78). His style led him to compose 
lines which are nothing short of ludicrous : — 

*' And up unto the heavens she throws her wond'ring head and hands." 

(1. 1928) 

He affected archaic word-forms, words, and phrases ; and 

his nouns are, as a rule, amplified by some heavy and coloured 

adjective, few of them being able to do duty alone : — 

"With cruel hand my mourning heart would pierce with bloody knife." 
^ (1. 496) 

His characters vacillate with sudden swiftness between 
violent extremes of emotion ; the passion he portrays strikes 
one as being, not infinitely tender and delicate, but rude and 
violent. There is nothing truly organic about the whole 
poem ; its parts are out of proportion ; it is loose in its con- 
struction, and vagarious in its progress. Its atmosphere is 
that of melodrama, and there is not one truly noble person 
in it. 



Hi INTRODUCTION 

But whatever its faults, the reader cannot fail to be 
struck by a certain grace and aptness for delineation. The 
poem is consistent in its archaism ; and occasion has been 
found to praise the delicacy of situations in it. One does 
not expect to find these graces in Brooke. At one point 
Boaistuau says, "De sorte que s'ils eussent peu commander 
au ciel comme Josue, etc." (p. 52) ; Brooke alters this Josue 
to Alciime : who was Alcume, and why was the alteration 
made ? ^ 

These and similar considerations led me to believe that 
Brooke had copied from some older English author, and 
knowing the resemblance between the Troilus story and 
Romeo, and noting Brooke's vocabulary, I turned to 
Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, and found there at once the 
poem from which Brooke had borrowed. The full account 
of Brooke's indebtedness is shown in the Appendix, but the 
chief points may be summarized here. 

Brooke's Debt to Chaucer. — Troilus, as the reader 
will remember, contains the very situations, already worked 
out, that Brooke had to portray, and the two stories are to a 
great extent quite parallel : two lovers are secretly betrothed, 
meet secretly at night in the heroine's house and part at 
dawning, vacillate between joy and sorrow, are comforted 
by a mutual friend, are separated by banishment, and have 
a sad farewell at sunrise after a last night together. This, 
told by the greatest of our old poets, and accessible at a time 

I See Appendix II., I. 824. 



INTRODUCTION liii 

when his archaism and others of his characteristics were 
becoming the fashionable literary style, was a largesse of 
which Brooke was not slow to avail himself. Most of his 
frequent allusions to Fortune and her wheel, to the Fates, 
and to Cupid, son of Venus, most of his archaic words, and 
some of his proverbial phrases, come from Troilus. Some- 
times what was a mere hint in Boaistuau is worked out by 
the help of Chaucer. Juliet, like Criseyde, has golden 
locks, and tears them in the same way ; Romeus is wise, 
like Troilus, has golden locks, too, sorrows the same, and 
imagines, like him, that the sun's steeds have gone astray in 
the night. Troilus attending Pandarus' help, and Romeus 
attending Laurence's, are both like the patient awaiting the 
leech's salve. Brooke affects, like Chaucer, to be unable to 
picture the joy and despair of his characters, and expresses 
ignorance as to the sensations of their love, never having ex- 
perienced it. Brooke's sunrises come, in the main, from 
Chaucer. 

These and many other minor points the reader should find 
in Appendix II. The great question is whether Chaucer 
led Brooke to make any additions to the story itself. We 
answer that he did, although these additions are minor ones. 
We saw that in the older and now lost English version of 
Ro7neo (probably a play) there was a scene at Laurence's cell, 
wherein Romeo laments. Brooke borrowed this suggestion 
from the play, apparently, but developed it from Chaucer, 
where there is a similar scene with Troilus. Troilus not 
only laments but becomes furious like a bull ; Romeus does 



liv INTRODUCTION 

likewise, and the most interesting and remarkable verbal 
borrowings are to be found at this point. Shakspere did 
not portray this scene in its entirety, but in his work, too, 
come out some of these Chaucer phrases obtained through 
Brooke, and though his scene is apparently based on the lost 
" original," we learn here that Romeo has been a " madman," 
and has railed on his birth, etc., as Troilus did in Chaucer 
and Romeus in Brooke.'^ The second addition made by the 
help of Chaucer is Romeus' sorrow in his exile, which 
greatly resembles that of Troilus, and here again we find 
close verbal borrowings.^ This was not taken up by Shak- 
spere, and there does not appear to have been any similar 
incident in the lost "original," — a consideration which points 
to the conclusion (borne out by other flicts) that Shakspere 
used Brooke most where his version coincided with the 
older and unknown source. In determining our author's 
debt to Chaucer the student should beware of certain re- 
markable passages in Brooke, often bearing great resemblance 
to others in Chaucer, but which have come to Romeus 
through Bandello and Boaistuau. In some cases, however, 
there can be no doubt that such passages, coming through 
Boaistuau as they did, have yet been moulded into their 
present form through the influence of similar passages in 
Chaucer expressing the same idea.3 



1 See the full account, Appendix II., 11. 1 287-1 507. 

2 Appendix II., 11. 1744-72. 

3 Appendix II., 11. 208, 314, 457, 824, 891 (?), etc. 



INTRODUCTION Iv 

Shakspere's Use of Brooke. — It is important to 

notice how completely the faults which disfigure Brooke's 
work are absent from that of Shakspere. The intellect of 
our great poet, always shaping its materials for dramatic 
purposes, appreciated intuitively that such faults would be 
fatal to any stage production. Everything artificial had to 
be discarded ; everything adventitious, ornate speeches, etc., 
had to be put aside. The swift and eager love of Romeo 
and Juliet, with its natural attributes of changing emotions, 
had to be presented with all its pure physical and spiritual 
life and energy. One might say, in comparing the products 
of each man's labour, that a process of transmutation had 
taken place ; the whole story was changed in the play, given 
a new impulse, and a deep and lasting significance : in a 
phrase, Shakspere vitalised Brooke's work. 

Romeo is not the earliest play connected with Brooke's 
poem. All students of Shakspere are aware of the m.any 
similarities existing between The Two Gentlemen of Verona 
and Romeo and Juliet. It has even been denied that 
Shakspere was the author of the former play, but the 
internal evidence which we shall discuss, demonstrates 
clearly that its author was also the author oi Romeo, and that 
he drew much from Brooke's Romeus. We have not here 
the space, and are not required, to detail all the origins ot 
The Tzvo Gentlemen ; we shall simply point out the connexion 
between that play and Romeo. 

The first point is the connexion between the characters. 
Many of the characters in The Tzvo Gentlemen are earlier 



Ivi INTRODUCTION 

sketches of those which find fuller being in Romeo. Julia 
is Juliet in comedy ; Juliet is Julia with all the fresh 
emotions of youth in play, isolated in an unsympathetic 
world which is to crush her. Mercutio (Phebidas in 
Struijs) probably came from the lost source, but one 
element of his character, his contempt for love, has its 
counterpart in Valentino, whose talk with the love-sick 
Proteus recalls the similar scenes between Benvolio and 
Mercutio and Romeo. Antonio's concern about Proteus 
is like old Montague's about Romeo, and as Proteus' love 
turns from Julia to Silvia, so Romeo's turns from Rosaline 
to Juliet. Valentine's wooing is endangered, like Romeo's 
relations with Juliet, by her father's desire to wed Silvia to 
another man ; and Thurio is another county Paris. The 
old Duke's words to Silvia on her dislike of Thurio are 
forerunners of Capulet's passionate outburst to Juliet, un- 
willing to wed Paris. Valentine, like Romeo, v/as to have 
ascended to his love's window by means of a rope ladder, 
but was discovered. Valentine, too, was banished, and was 
forced to leave his lady ; he went to Mantua, and dared not 
return on pain of death. When asked by the outlaws the 
cause of his banishment he replied that he had killed a man 
in honourable fight — an evident reminiscence of the slaying 
of Tybalt. Proteus' advice to Valentine on his banishment 
recalls Laurence's to Romeo. Silvia herself planned escape 
to avoid " a most unholy match," and met her helper at a 
friar's cell, whereto she had gone ostensibly for the purpose 
of confession. A Friar Laurence is mentioned in the text. 



INTRODUCTION Ivii 

The second point is the connexion of incidents. Besides 
the ladder plot, mentioned above, there are several important 
incidents which merit attention. In Act IV., Scene ii., we 
find Proteus expressing his affection to Silvia at her window 
above him. Valentine and Silvia planned secret marriage 
and flight, and Julia disguised herself in man's attire as Juliet 
proposed doing. 

This evidence is fairly conclusive ; but still it might be 
contended that these points might have been taken from 
some older and similar play or poem. A consideration of 
phrases, however, places the matter in a more certain light. 
This consideration makes the third point. I have not space 
here to give the quotations. They are printed in Appendices 
I. and II, where the reader should see lines 207-9, ^HS"^* 
1209. I omit other phrases, which are somewhat dubious. 

We have next to consider Romeo itself. That Shakspere 
used Brooke in the construction of his tragedy is beyond 
question. His debt is considerable, although it may be that 
he followed the old source more closely in construction. 
Brooke himself did not hesitate to depart from his original : 
he practically created the character of the Nurse; it is in 
his version first that the names of Capulet's guests are 
written ; he made the apothecary ; he developed Romeus' 
ravings at the cell, — though such a scene, as it occurs in 
Struijs, must have been in the earlier English source, — and 
he pictured his sorrow in exile ; he introduced the scenes 
between Romeus and the Nurse, and between the Nurse and 
Juliet in connexion with arranging the marriage, and created 



Iviii INTRODUCTION 

the incident of Romeus giving the money to the Nurse. Of 
most of these innovations Shakspere availed himself, but his 
tragedy departs in many important particulars from Brooke's 
version. These are: (i) the character and death of Mer- 
cutio ; (2) the compression of the action from over nine 
months to five days ; (3) Tybalt's outcry against Romeo at 
the feast ; (4) the slaying of Tybalt after his killing Mercutio 
under Romeo's arm, not, as in Brooke, because of a fury 
like his own, kindled in Romeo ; (5) the arrangement 
between Capulet and Paris to give Juliet to the latter even 
before her first meeting with Romeo ; (6) the slaying of 
Paris at the tomb ; (7) the perfection of the characters. 
How many of these points are due to Shakspere, and how 
many to the old source ? 

Mercutio, we saw, came from the lost " original," but it is 
probable that Shakspere individualised him more. The com- 
pression of the action, a most potent dramatic change, is 
due to the great dramatist, but the slaying of Mercutio was 
probably somewhat similar in the lost version ; and Paris (as 
in Struijs) may there have been earlier introduced than in 
Brooke, but the fore-contract of marriage and the slaying of 
Paris are Shakespere's own. In the older version, too, there 
was probably some reference to, or representation of, Tybalt's 
storm at the feast. The most interesting point, perhaps, is 
(7) the perfection of the characters. In the poem Romeo 
and Juliet have both golden hair. Juliet is fourteen years 
old in the play and sixteen in the poem ; the " wily wench," 
according to Brooke, laughs at deceiving her mother (714), 



INTRODUCTION lix 

and following her mother's Instructions, she wilfully leads 
Paris on to woo her for a number of days, after the banish- 
ment of Romeo (2263-75). How much purer and more 
beautiful is Shakspere's heroine ! Brooke's Romeus possesses 
none of the refinement and delicacy of Romeo : Romeus is 
like a semi-savage in love ; his grief is overdrawn and his 
passion is rendered unnatural by Brooke's lengthy rhetoric. 
Note how he speaks to Peter in 1. 2626. Laurence, whom 
we have come to know as venerable and wise, is yet in the 
poem said to have secreted his "fair friends" at his cell in 
his youth (1273, and see Appendix I., 1 267). The prolixity 
of his speeches is quite tiresome : Shakspere's Laurence says 
pointedly: "I will be brief" (V. iii. 229), and brief he is, 
compared with the Friar in the poem. For many other 
minor points, the use of " Freetown," etc., and the striking 
verbal borrowings that Shakspere made from Brooke, the 
reader should consult Appendices I. and II. 

Shakspere's task, as a dramatist, was to unify and vivify his 
narrative, to individualise it and give it an atmosphere in 
keeping with its moving love and tragedy. Every change 
that he made was to these ends. Brooke's story meanders 
on like a listless stream in a strange and impossible land ; 
Shakspere's sweeps on like a broad and rushing river, singing 
and foaming, flashing in sunlight and darkening in cloud, 
carrying all things irresistibly to where it plunges over the 
precipice into a waste of waters below. A rapturous passion, 
expressed in a perfect lyricism, and reckless of all on earth 
that did not lend it glory and add to its greatness, sweeps 



Ix INTRODUCTION 

through and pervades the play : all the fire and energy of 
the south is there, the unquestioning idealism of youth 
which seizes hold of the fairness of the earth, lives in it, and 
abides by it. Brooke's Romeus can curse the world, can in 
the extravagant manner of the poem, curse his own life and 
pray for death ; but Romeo never really loses his faith in 
the things which are, ever possesses his fundamental belief 
in joy and love. He acts with southern swiftness and resolu- 
tion, characteristic of a man who revels in all things beautiful 
and follows unquestioningly the laws of the ages ; swiftly he 
throws aside his love for Rosaline, and swiftly he loves Juliet; 
swiftly he weds her, and swiftly he leaves her again ; when 
he hears of her supposed death he acts promptly and de- 
cisively ; no question of the use and fitness of things comes 
to him ; he ponders no action before execution ; he troubles 
about no criterion of certitude or other philosophical pro- 
blem ; he never pauses to consider, like his antithesis Hamlet, 
the ultimate end of his own life or of another's, or of the 
fair, warm flesh which he can see and take joy In ; and yet, 
through all, he Is no sensualist or materialist, rather one 
ever alive to the tireless spirit that works in man. If he 
hesitates, it is his love which holds him ; If he complains, it 
is his love which has caused his trouble ; if he weeps, it is 
not because he believes happiness to be a delusion, but be- 
cause it is real and good, because he had it once and has it 
no longer. If we may anywhere profess to see the character 
of Shakspere in the spring-time of his labours, it must be in 
the manner he has worked, selected, and developed here. 



INTRODUCTION Ixl 

Previous Editions. — Brooke's poem has often been 
reprinted. It was first published by Richard Tottel (or 
Tothill), the great law-printer, in 1562. Only three copies 
of this edition are known ; one in the Malone collection in 
the Bodleian ; another in the library of Mr. Huth ; and a 
third, imperfect, at Trinity College, Cambridge. According 
to the Sitationers Registers, Tottel obtained a license to 
reprint the book in 1582; no copy of such an edition is 
knov/n. Ralph Robinson reprinted the original in 1587. 
Malone printed it again in 1780, and it was reissued in the 
Shakespeare Variorum Edition of 182 1. It appeared in 
J. P. Collier's Shakespeare's Library, 1 843 . Halliwell reprinted 
it in his Folio Edition of Shakspere, following Collier ; and 
Hazlitt, correcting his text from the original, printed it 
once more in his Shakespeare' s Library, in 1874. The best 
edition is that by P. A. Daniel, Issued by the New Shakspere 
Society in 1875. 

Painter's "Palace of Pleasure."— Painter's ie/5m^(? 

and Jtdietta was first published in the second volume of his 
Palace of Pleasure, in 1567. The whole collection of tales 
was published in two volumes at different dates ; of Vol. I. 
three editions are known, dated respectively 1566, 1569, 
and 1575 ; of Vol. II. only two, the first dated November 
8th, 1567, while the second, which is dateless, was probably 
published between 1575 and 1580.^ The undated edition 
contains emendations and additions. 

I Daniel, p. xx. 



Ixii INTRODUCTION 

As Daniel points out, it is probable that Painter occasion- 
ally consulted Brooke in making his translation ; but his 
borrowings are neither frequent nor considerable. He takes 
none of Brooke's innovations, and adheres tenaciously to 
Boaistuau's text, except where he duplicates terms or mis- 
understands his original. It is difficult to see in what way 
Shakspere could have made use of his version. For a fuller 
discussion of Painter's novel, I refer the reader to Mr. Daniel's 
Introduction. 

Before closing this Introduction I have to express my 
gratitude to Mr. P. A, Daniel for the kindly and ready per- 
mission he gave me to make any use I cared of his edition 
of Brooke's poem and Painter's novel : of this I availed 
myself, as the references indicate. To Dr. Furnivall and to 
Dr. Gollancz I am likewise indebted for kindly help and 
advice. 



THE TRAGICAL His- 
tory of Romeus and Juliet, writ- 
ten first in Italian by Bandell, 
and now in English by 
Ar. Br. 



In aedibus Richardi Tottelli. 
Cum Privilegio. 



TO THE READER 

THE God of all Glory created, universally, all creatures 
to set forth His praise ; both those which we esteem 
profitable in use and pleasure, and also those which we 
accompt noisome and loathsome. But principally He hath 
appointed man the chiefest instrument of His honour, not 
only for ministering matter thereof in man himself, but as 
well in gathering out of other the occasions of publishing 
God's goodness, wisdom, and power. And in like sort, 
every doing of man hath, by God's dispensation, something 
whereby God may and ought to be honoured. So the 
good doings of the good and the evil acts of the wicked, 
the happy success of the blessed and the woeful proceedings 
of the miserable, do in divers sort sound one praise of God. 
And as each flower yieldeth honey to the bee, so every 
example ministereth good lessons to the well-disposed mind. 
The glorious triumph of the continent man upon the lusts 
of wanton flesh, encourageth men to honest restraint of 
wild affections ; the shameful and wretched ends of such 
as have yielded their liberty thrall to foul desires teach men 
to withhold themselves from the headlong fall of loose 
dishonesty. So, to like efl^ect, by sundry means the good 
man's example biddeth men to be good, and the evil man's 



Ixvi TO THE READER 

mischief warneth men not to be evil. To this good end 
serve all ill ends of ill beginnings. And to this end, good 
Reader, is this tragical matter written, to describe unto 
thee a couple of unfortunate lovers, thralling themselves to 
unhonest desire ; neglecting the authority and advice of 
parents and friends ; conferring their principal counsels 
with drunken gossips and superstitious friars (the naturally 
fit instruments of unchastity) ; attempting all adventures of 
peril for th' attaining of their wished lust ; using auricular 
confession, the key of whoredom and treason, for further- 
ance of their purpose ; abusing the honourable name of 
lawful marriage to cloak the shame of stolen contracts ; 
finally by all means of unhonest life hasting to most 
unhappy death. This precedent, good Reader, shall be 
to thee, as the slaves of Lacedemon, oppressed with excess ot 
drink, deformed and altered from likeness of men both in 
mind and use of body, were to the free-born children, so 
shewed to them by their parents, to th' intent to raise in 
them an hateful loathing of so filthy beastliness. Here- 
unto, if you apply It, ye shall deliver my doing from offence 
and profit yourselves. Though I saw the same argument 
lately set forth on stage with more commendation than 
I can look for — being there much better set forth than I 
have or can do — yet the same matter penned as it is may 
serve to like good effect, if the readers do bring with them 
like good minds to consider it, which hath the more 
encouraged me to publish it, such as It is. 

Ar. Br. 



TO THE READER 

AMID ihe desert rocks, the mountain bear 
Brings forth unformed, unlike herself, her young, 
Naught else but lumps of flesh withouten hair : 
In tract of time, her often-licking tongue 

Gives them such shape as doth, ere long, delight 
The lookers on : Or when one dog doth shake 
With muzzled mouth the joints too weak to fight ; 
Or when upright he standeth by his stake, 

A noble crest ; or wild in savage wood 
A dozen dogs one holdeth at a bay. 
With gaping mouth and stained jaws with blood ; 
Or else when from the farthest heavens, they 

The lode-stars are, the weary pilate's mark. 

In storms to guide to haven the tossed bark. 

Right so my muse 

Hath now at length, with travail long, brought forth 
Her tender whelps, her divers kinds of style, 
Such as they are, or naught, or little worth, 
Which careful travail and a longer while 
May better shape. The eldest of them, lo ! 
I offer to the stake, my youthful work. 



Ixviii TO THE READER 

Which one reproachful mouth might overthrow : 
The rest — unlicked as yet — awhile shall lurk, 

Till time give strength to meet and match in fight 

With slander's whelps. Then shall they tell of strife, 
Of noble triumphs and deeds of martial might, 
And shall give rules of chaste and honest life. 

The while I pray that ye with favour blame. 
Or rather not reprove the laughing game 

Of this my muse. 



THE ARGUMENT 

LOVE hath inflamed twain by sudden sight, 
And both do grant the thing that both desire. 

They wed in shrift by counsel of a friar. 

Young Romeus climbs fair Juliet's bower by night. 
Three months he doth enjoy his chief delight. 

By Tybalt's rage provoked unto ire, 

He payeth death to Tybalt for his hire. 

A banished man he 'scapes by secret flight. 
New marriage is offered to his wife. 

She drinks a drink that seems to reave her breath : 

They bury her that sleeping yet hath life. 
Her husband hears the tidings of her death. 

He drinks his bane. And she with Romeus' knife, 
When she awakes, herself, alas ! she slay'th. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 

THERE is beyond the Alps, a town of ancient fame, 
Whose bright renown yet shineth clear : Verona men it 
Built in a happy time, built on a fertile soil, [name ; 

Maintained by the heavenly fates, and by the townish toil. 
The fruitful hills above, the pleasant vales below, 5 

The silver stream with channel deep, that thro' the town doth 
The store of springs that serve for use, and eke for ease, [flow, 
And other more commodities, which profit may and please, — 
Eke many certain signs of things betid of old. 
To fill the hungry eyes of those that curiously behold, 10 
Do make this town to be preferred above the rest 
Of Lombard towns, or at the least, compared with the best. 
In which while Escalus as prince alone did reign. 
To reach reward unto the good, to pay the lewd with pain, 
Alas, I rue to think, an heavy hap befell : ' 1 5 

Which Boccace scant, not my rude tongue, were able forth to 
Within my trembling hand, my pen doth shake for fear, [tell. 
And, on my cold amazed head, upright doth stand my hair. 
But sith she doth command, whose hest I must obey. 
In mourning verse, a woeful chance to tell I will assay. 20 
Help, learned Pallas, help, ye Muses with your art. 
Help, all ye damned fiends to tell of joys returned to smart. 



2 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Help eke, ye sisters three, my skilless pen t' indite : 
For you it caused which I, alas, unable am to write, [place 
There were two ancient stocks, which Fortune high did 
Above the rest, indued with wealth, and nobler of their race. 
Loved of the common sort, loved of the prince alike, 
And like unhappy were they both, when Fortune list to strike; 
Whose praise, with equal blast, Fame in her trumpet blew ; 
The one was cleped Capulet, and th' other Montague. 30 
A wonted use it is, that men of likely sort, 
(I wot not by what fury forced) envy each other's port. 
So these, whose egall state bred envy pale of hue, [grew. 
And then, of grudging envy's root, black hate and rancour 
As, of a little spark, oft riseth mighty fire, 35 

So of a kindled spark of grudge, in flames flash out their ire: 
And then their deadly food, first hatched of trifling strife, 
Did bathe in blood of smarting wounds ; it reaved breath and 
No legend lie I tell, scarce yet their eyes be dry, [life. 

That did behold the grisly sight, with wet and weeping 
eye. 40 

But when the prudent prince, who there the sceptre held. 
So great a new disorder in his commonweal beheld ; 
By gentle mean he sought, their choler to assuage ; 
And by persuasion to appease, their blameful furious rage. 
But both his words and time, the prince hath spent in vain : 45 
So rooted was the inward hate, he lost his busy pain. 
When friendly sage advice, ne gentle words avail. 
By thund'ring threats, and princely power their courage 'gan 
he quail. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 3 

In hope that when he had the wasting flame supprest, 
In time he should quite quench the sparks that burned within 
their breast. 50 

Now whilst these kindreds do remain in this estate, 
And each with outward friendly show doth hide his inward 
One Romeus, who was of race a Montague, [hate : 

Upon whose tender chin, as yet, no manlike beard there grew, 
Whose beauty and whose shape so far the rest did stain, 55 
That from the chief of Verone youth he greatest fame did gain, 
Hath found a maid so fair (he found so foul his hap). 
Whose beauty, shape, and comely grace, did so his heart en- 
That from his own affairs, his thought she did remove ; [trap. 
Only he sought to honour her, to serve her and to love. 60 
To her he writeth oft, oft messengers are sent. 
At length, in hope of better speed, himself the lover went, 
Present to plead for grace, which absent was not found : 
And to discover to her eye his new received wound. 
But she that from her youth was fostered evermore 65 

With virtue's food, and taught in school of wisdom's skilful 
By answer did cut off th' affections of his love, [lore ; 

That he no more occasion had so vain a suit to move. 
So stern she was of cheer, for all the pain he took. 
That, in reward of toil, she would not give a friendly look. 70 
And yet how much she did with constant mind retire ; 
So much the more his fervent mind was pricked forth by 

desire. 
But when he many months, hopeless of his recure. 
Had served her, who forced not what pains he did endure, 



4 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

At length he thought to leave Verona, and to prove 75 

If change of place might change away his ill-bestow^ed love ; 

And speaking to himself, thus 'gan he make his moan : 

* What booteth me to love and serve a fell, unthankful one, 

Sith that my humble suit and labour sowed in vain, 79 

Can reap none other fruit at all but scorn and proud disdain ? 

What way she seeks to go, the same I seek to run, [shun. 

But she the path wherein I tread, with speedy flight doth 

I cannot live, except that near to her I be ; 

She is aye best content when she is farthest off from me. 

Wherefore henceforth I will far from her take my flight ; 85 

Perhaps mine eye once banished by absence from her sight. 

This fire of mine, that by her pleasant eyne is fed. 

Shall little and little wear away, and quite at last be dead.' 

But whilst he did decree this purpose still to keep, 
A contrary, repugnant thought sank in his breast so deep, 9a 
That doubtful is he now which of the twain is best : 
In sighs, in tears, in plaint, in care, in sorrow and unrest. 
He moans the day, he wakes the long and weary night; [bright 
So deep hath love with piercing hand, y-graved her beauty 
Within his breast, and hath so mastered quite his heart, 95 
That he of force must yield as thrall; — no way is left to start. 
He cannot stay his step, but forth still must he run ; 
He languisheth and melts away, as snow against the sun. 
His kindred and allies do wonder what he ails. 
And each of them in friendly wise his heavy hap bewails. 1 00 
But one among the rest, the trustiest of his feres, ~V 

Far more than he with counsel filled, and riper of his years. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 5 

'Gan sharply him rebuke, such love to him he bare, 
That he was fellow of his smart, and partner of his care. 
* What mean'st thou, Romeus, quoth he, what doting rage 105 
Doth make thee thus consume away the best part of thine age, 
In seeking her that scorns, and hides her from thy sight. 
Not forcing all thy great expense, ne yet thy honour bright, 
Thy tears, thy wretched life, ne thine unspotted truth, 109 
Which are of force, I ween, to move the hardest heart to ruth ? 
Now for our friendship's sake, and for thy health, I pray. 
That thou henceforth become thine own. — Oh, give no more 
Unto a thankless wight thy precious free estate ; [away 

In that thou lovest such a one, thou seem'st thyself to hate. 
For she doth love elsewhere, — and then thy time is lorn, 1 1 5 
Or else (what booteth thee to sue ?) Love's court she hath 

forsworn. 
Both young thou art of years, and high in Fortune's grace : 
What man is better shaped than thou ? Who hath a sweeter 

face ? 
By painful studies' mean, great learning hast thou won ; 119 
Thy parents have none other heir, thou art their only son. 
What greater grief, trowst thou, what woeful deadly smart 
Should so be able to distrain thy seely father's heart. 
As in his age to see thee plunged deep in vice, 
When greatest hope he hath to hear thy virtue's fame arise ? 
What shall thy kinsmen think, thou cause of all their ruth ? 1 2 5 
Thy deadly foes do laugh to scorn thy ill-employed youth. 
Wherefore my counsel is, that thou henceforth begin 
To know and fly the error which too long thou livedst in. 



6 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Remove the veil of love, that keeps thine eyes so blind, 
That thou ne canst the ready path of thy forefathers find. 130 
But if unto thy will so much in thrall thou art. 
Yet in some other place bestow thy witless wand'ring heart. 
Choose out some worthy dame, her honour thou and serve. 
Who will give ear to thy complaint, and pity ere thou sterve. 
But sow no more thy pains in such a barren soil, 1 3 5 

As yields in harvest time no crop, in recompense of toil. 
Ere long the townish dames together will resort ; 
Some one of beauty, favour, shape, and of so lovely port. 
With so fast fixed eye, perhaps thou mayst behold, 139 

That thou shalt quite forget thy love, and passions past of old.' 
The young man's listening ear received the wholesome 

sound, 
And reason's truth y-planted so, within his head had ground; 
That now with healthy cool y-tempered is the heat, [fret. 
And piecemeal wears av/ay the grief that erst his heart did 
To his approved friend a solemn oath he plight, 145 

At every feast y-kept by day, and banquet made by night. 
At pardons in the church, at games in open street. 
And everywhere he would resort where ladies wont to meet; 
Eke should his savage heart like all indifferently, 
For he'would view and judge them all with unallured eye. 150 
How happy had he been, had he not been forsworn ; 
But twice as happy had he been, had he been never born. 
For ere the moon could thrice her wasted horns renew. 
False Fortune cast for him, poor wretch, a mischief new to 

brew. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 7 

The weary winter nights restore the Christmas games, 1 5 5 
And now the season doth invite to banquet townish dames. 
And first in Capel's house, the chief of all the kin 
Spar'th for no cost, the wonted use of banquets to begin. 
No lady fair or foul was in Verona town, 
No knight or gentleman of high or low renown, 160 

But Capulet himself hath bid unto his feast, 
Or by his name in paper sent, appointed as a geast. 
Young damsels thither flock, of bachelors a rout, 
Not so much for the banquet's sake, as beauties to search out. 
But not a Montague would enter at his gate, 165 

(For as you heard, the Capulets and they were at debate) 
Save Romeus, and he, in mask with hidden face, 
The supper done, with other five did press into the place. 
When they had masked awhile, with dames in courtly wise. 
All did unmask, the rest did show them to their ladies' eyes ; 
But bashful Romeus with shamefast face forsook 1 7 1 

The open press, and him withdrew into the chamber's nook. 
But brighter than the sun, the waxen torches shone. 
That maugre what he could, he was espied of everyone. 
But of the women chief, their gazing eyes that threw, 175 
To wonder at his sightly shape and beauty's spotless hue. 
With which the heavens him had and nature so bedecked. 
That ladies thought the fairest dames were foul in his respect. 
And in their head beside, another wonder rose, 
How he durst put himself in throng among so many foes. 1 80 
Of courage stout they thought his coming to proceed : 
And women love an hardy heart, as I in stories read. 



8 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The Capulets disdain the presence of their foe, 
Yet they suppress their stirred ire, the cause I do not know: 
Perhaps t' offend their guests the courteous knights are loth, 1 8 5 
Perhaps they stay from sharp revenge, dreading the Prince's 
Perhaps for that they shamed to exercise their rage [wroth. 
Within their house, 'gainst one alone, and him of tender age. 
They use no taunting talk, ne harm him by their deed ; 
They neither say, * What mak'st thou here ? ' ne yet they say, 

*God speed.' 190 

So that he freely might the ladies view at ease ; 
And they also beholding him, their change of fancies please ; 
Which Nature had him taught to do with such a grace. 
That there was none but joyed at his being there in place. 
With upright beam he weighed the beauty of each dame, 195 
And judged who best, and who next her, was wrought in 

Nature's frame. 
At length he saw a maid, right fair, of perfect shape. 
Which Theseus or Paris would have chosen to their rape. 
Whom erst he never saw ; of all she pleased him most ; 
Within himself he said to her. Thou justly may'st thee boast 200 
Of perfect shape's renown, and beauty's sounding praise. 
Whose like ne hath, ne shall be seen, ne liveth in our days. 
And whilst he fixed on her his partial pierced eye. 
His former love, for which of late he ready was to die. 
Is now as quite forgot, as it had never been : 205 

The proverb saith, * Unminded oft arc they that are unseen.* 
And as out of a plank a nail a nail doth drive. 
So novel love out of the mind the ancient love doth rive. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 9 

This sudden kindled fire in time is wox so great, [fiery heat. 
That only death and both their bloods might quench the 
When Romeus saw himself in this new tempest tossed, 2 1 1 
Where both was hope of pleasant port, and danger to be lost, 
He doubtful, scarcely knew what countenance to keep ; 
In Lethe's flood his wonted flames were quenched and 

drenched deep. 
Yea, he forgets himself, ne is the wretch so bold 215 

To ask her name, that without force hath him in bondage 
Ne how t' unloose his bonds doth the poor fool devise, [fold. 
But only seeketh by her sight to feed his hungry eyes : [bait : 
Through them he swalloweth down love's sweet impoisoned 
How surely are the wareless wrapt by those that lie in wait ! 
So is the poison spread throughout his bones and veins, 221 
That in a while, alas, the while, it hasteth deadly pains. 
Whilst Juliet, for so this gentle damsel hight, 
From side to side on every one did cast about her sight : 
At last her floating eyes were anchored fast on him, 225 
Who for her sake did banish health and freedom from each 
He in her sight did seem to pass the rest as far [limb. 

As Phoebus' shining beams do pass the brightness of a star. 
In wait lay warlike Love with golden bow and shaft, 
And to his ear with steady hand the bowstring up he raft. 
Till now she had escaped his sharp inflaming dart, 231 

Till now he listed not assault her young and tender heart. 
His whetted arrow loosed, so touched her to the quick, 
That through the eye it strake the heart, and there the 

head did stick. 



lo ROMEUS AND JULIET 

It booted not to strive, for why, she wanted strength ; 235 
The weaker aye unto the strong of force must yield, at length. 
The pomps now of the feast her heart 'gins to despise ; 
And only joyeth when her eyne meet with her lover's eyes. 
When their new smitten hearts had fed on loving gleams, 
Whilst, passing to and fro their eyes, y-mingled were their 

beams. 
Each of these lovers 'gan by other's looks to know. 
That friendship in their breast had root, and both would 

have it grow. 242 

When thus in both their hearts had Cupid made his breach. 
And each of them had sought the mean to end the war by 
Dame Fortune did assent their purpose to advance, [speech, 
With torch in hand a comely knight did fetch her forth to 
She quit herself so well, and with so trim a grace, [dance ; 
That she the chief praise won that night from all Verona race. 
The whilst our Romeus a place had warely won, 249 

Nigh to the seat where she must sit, the dance once being 
Fair Juliet turned to her chair with pleasant cheer, [done. 
And glad she was her Romeus approached was so near. 
At th' one side of her chair her lover Romeo, 
And on the other side there sat one called Mercutio ; 
A courtier that each where was highly had in price, 255 
For he was courteous of his speech, and pleasant of device. 
Even as a lion would among the lambs be bold. 
Such was among the bashful maids Mercutio to behold. 
With friendly gripe he seized fair Juliet's snowish hand : 
A gift he had that Nature gave him in his swathing band, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET ii 

That frozen mountain ice was never half so cold, 261 

As were his hands, though ne'er so near the fire he did them 
As soon as had the knight the virgin's right hand raught, [hold. 
Within his trembling hand her left hath loving Romeus 
For he wist well himself for her abode most pain, [caught. 
And well he wist she loved him best, unless she list to feign. 
Then she with tender hand his tender palm hath pressed ; 
What joy, trow you, was grafted so in Romeus' cloven breast ? 
The sudden sweet delight hath stopped quite his tongue, 
Ne can he claim of her his right, ne crave redress of wrong. 
But she espied straightway, by changing of his hue 271 

From pale to red, from red to pale, and so from pale anew. 
That veh'ment love was cause, why so his tongue did stay. 
And so much more she longed to hear what Love could 

teach him say. 
When she had longed long, and he long held his peace, 275 
And her desire of hearing him, by silence did increase, 
At last, with trembling voice and shamefast cheer, the maid 
Unto her Romeus turned herself, and thus to him she said : 
* O blessed be the time of thy arrival here : ' [near, 

But ere she could speak forth the rest, to her Love drew so 
And so within her mouth, her tongue he glued fast, 281 
That no one word could 'scape her more than what already 

passed. , 

In great contented ease the young man straight is rapt : 
* What chance,' quoth he, * un'ware to me, O lady mine, is hapt. 
That gives you worthy cause my coming here to bliss ? ' 285 
Fair Juliet was come again unto herself by this : 



12 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

First ruthfully she looked, then said with smiling cheer : 

* Marvel no whit, my heart's delight, my only knight and fere, 
Mercutio's icy hand had all-to frozen mine. 

And of thy goodness thou again hast warmed it with thine.' 
Whereto with stayed brow, 'gan Romeus to reply : 291 

* If so the gods have granted me such favour from the sky, 
That by my being here some service I have done 

That pleaseth you, I am as glad, as I a realm had won. 294 
O well-bestowed time, that hath the happy hire, [desire. 
Which I would wish, if I might have, my wished heart's 
For I of God would crave, as price of pains forepast. 
To serve, obey, and honour you, so long as life shall last ; 
As proof shall teach you plain, if that you like to try 
His faultless truth, that nill for aught unto his lady lie. 300 
But if my touched hand have warmed yours some deal, 
Assure yourself the heat is cold, which in your hand you feel. 
Compared to such quick sparks and glowing furious glead, 
As from your beauty's pleasant eyne. Love caused to proceed ; 
Which have so set on fire each feeling part of mine, 305 
That lo, my mind doth melt away, my outward parts do pine. 
And but you help, all whole, to ashes shall I turn ; 
Wherefore, alas, have ruth on him, whom you do force to 

burn.' 

Even with his ended tale, the torches' dance had end. 

And Juliet of force must part from her new chosen friend. 

His hand she clasped hard, and all her parts did shake, 3 1 1 

When leisureless with whisp'ring voice thus did she answer 

make : 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 13 

You are no more your own, dear friend, than I am yours. 
My honour saved, prest t'obey your will, while life en- 
dures. 
Lo, here the lucky lot that seld true lovers find, 
Each takes away the other's heart, and leaves the own behind. 
A happy life is love, if God grant from above, 3 1 7 

That heart with heart by even weight do make exchange of 
But Romeus gone from her, his heart for care is cold ; [love. 
He hath forgot to ask her name that hath his heart in hold. 
With forged careless cheer, of one he seeks to know, 321 
Both how she hight,and whence she came, that him enchanted 
So hath he learned her name, and know'th she is no geast, [so. 
Her father was a Capulet, and master of the feast. 
Thus hath his foe in choice to give him life or death, 325 
That scarcely can his woeful breast keep in the lively breath. 
Wherefore with piteous plaint fierce Fortune doth he blame. 
That in his ruth and wretched plight doth seek her laugh- 
And he reproveth Love, chief cause of his unrest, [ing game. 
Who ease and freedom hath exiled out of his youthful breast. 
Twice hath he made him serve, hopeless of his reward ; 33 i 
Of both the ills to choose the less, I ween the choice were 
First to a ruthless one he made him sue for grace, [hard. 
And now with spur he forceth him to run an endless race. 
Amid these stormy seas one anchor doth him hold, 335 

He serveth not a cruel one, as he had done of old. 
And therefore is content, and chooseth still to serve. 
Though hap should swear that guerdonless the wretched 
wight should sterve. 



14 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The lot of Tantalus is, Romeus, like to thine ; 

For want of food amid his food, the miser still doth pine. 

As careful was the maid what way were best devise 341 
To learn his name, that entertained her in so gentle wise, 
Of whom her heart received so deep, so wide a wound. 
An ancient dame she called to her, and in her ear 'gan round. 
This old dame in her youth had nursed her with her milk, 
With slender needle taught her sew, and how to spin with silk. 

* What twain are those,' quoth she,* which press unto the door. 
Whose pages in their hand do bear two torches light before ? ' 
And then as each of them had of his household name. 

So she him named yet once again, the young and wily dame. 

* And tell me, who is he with visor in his hand, 351 
That yonder doth in masking weed beside the window stand?' 

* His name is Romeus,' said she, * a Montague, [households rue.' 
Whose father's pride first stirred the strife which both your 
The word of Montague her joys did overthrow, 355 
And straight instead of happy hope, despair began to grow. 

* What hap have I,' quoth she, * to love my father's foe ? 
What, am I weary of my weal ? What, do I wish my woe ? ' 
But though her grievous pains distrained her tender heart, 
Yet with an outward show of joy she cloaked inward smart ; 
And of the courtlike dames her leave so courtly took, 361 
That none did guess the sudden change by changing of her 
Then at her mother's hest to chamber she her hied, [look. 
So well she feigned, mother ne nurse the hidden harm descried. 
But when she should have slept, as wont she was, in bed, 365 
Not half a wink of quiet sleep could harbour in her head. 



V 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 15 

For lo, an hugy heap of divers thoughts arise, [her eyes. 
That rest have banished from her heart, and slumber from 
And now from side to side she tosseth and she turns. 
And now for fear she shivereth, and now for love she burns. 
And now she likes her choice, and now her choice she blames. 
And now each hour within her head a thousand fancies frames. 
Sometime in mind to stop amid her course begun, 373 

Sometime she vows, what so betide, th' attempted race to run. 
Thus danger's dread and love within the maiden fought : 
The fight was fierce, continuing long by their contrary 
In turning maze of love she wand'reth to and fro, [thought. 
Then standeth doubtful what to do, lost, overpressed with woe. 
How so her fancies cease, her tears did never blin, [begin : 
With heavy cheer and wringed hands thus doth her plaint 
* Ah, silly fool,' quoth she, * y-caught in subtle snare ! [care ! 
Ah, wretched wench, bewrapt in woe ! Ah, caitifi:' clad with 
Whence come these wand'ring thoughts to thy unconstant 

breast ? 
By straying thus from reason's law, that reave thy wonted rest. 
What if his subtle brain to feign have taught his tongue, 385 
And so the snake that lurks in grass thy tender heart hath 
What if with friendly speech the traitor lie in wait, [stung ? 
As oft the poisoned hook is hid, wrapt in the pleasant bait ? 
Oft under cloak of truth hath Falsehood served her lust ; 
And turned their honour into shame, that did so slightly 
What, was not Dido so, a crowned queen, defamed ? [trust. 
And eke, for such a heinous crime, have men not Theseus 

blamed ? 



1 6 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

A thousand stories more, to teach me to beware, 
In Boccace and in Ovid's books too plainly written are. 
Perhaps, the great revenge he cannot work by strength, 395 
By subtle sleight, my honour stained, he hopes to work at 
So shall I seek to find my father's foe his game ; [length. 
So, I befiled. Report shall take her trump of black defame. 
Whence she with puffed cheek shall blow a blast so shrill 
Of my dispraise, that with the noise Verona shall she fill. 400 
Then I, a laughing-stock through all the town become. 
Shall hide myself, but not my shame, within an hollow 
Straight underneath her foot she treadeth in the dust [tomb. 
Her troublesome thought, as wholly vain, y-bred of fond 
No, no, by God above, I wot it well, quoth she, [distrust. 
Although I rashly spake before, in no wise can it be 406 
That where such perfect shape with pleasant beauty rests. 
There crooked craft and treason black should be appointed 
Sage writers say, the thoughts are dwelling in the eyne ; [guests. 
Then sure I am, as Cupid reigns, that Romeus is mine. 410 
The tongue the messenger eke call they of the mind ; 
So that I see he loveth me ; shall I then be unkind ? 
His face's rosy hue I saw full oft to seek ; [cheek. 

And straight again it flashed forth, and spread in either 
His fixed heavenly eyne, that through me quite did pierce 
His thoughts unto my heart, my thought they seemed to re- 
What meant his falt'ring tongue in telling of his tale ? [hearse. 
The trembling of his joints, and eke his colour waxen pale? 
And whilst I talked with him, himself he hath exiled 
Out of himself, as seemed me, ne was I sure beguiled. 420 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 17 

Those arguments of love Craft wrate not In his face, 
But Nature's hand, when all deceit was banished out of place. 
What other certain signs seek I of his good will ? [still, 

These do suffice ; and steadfast I will love and serve him 
Till Atropos shall cut my fatal thread of life, 425 

So that he mind to make of me his lawful wedded wife. 
For so perchance this new alliance may procure 
Unto our houses such a peace as ever shall endure.' 

Oh, how we can persuade ourself to what we like, 429 
And how we can dissuade our mind, if aught our mind mis- 
Weak arguments are strong, our fancies straight to frame [like ! 
To pleasing things, and eke to shun if we mislike the same. 
The maid had scarcely yet ended the weary war, [star 

Kept in her heart by striving thoughts, when every shining 
Had paid his borrowed light, and Phoebus spread in skies 43 5 
His golden rays, which seemed to say, now time it is to rise. 
And Romeus had by this forsaken his weary bed, [head. 
Where restless he a thousand thoughts had forg6d in his 
And while with ling'ring step by Juliet's house he passed. 
And upwards to her windows high his greedy eyes did cast, 
His love that looked for him there 'gan he straight espy. 441 
With pleasant cheer each greeted is ; she followeth with her 
His parting steps, and he oft looketh back again, [eye 

But not so oft as he desires ; warely he doth refrain. 
What life were like to love, if dread of jeopardy 445 

Y-soured not the sweet, if love were free from jealousy ! 
But she more sure within, unseen of any wight. 
When so he comes, looks after him till he be out of sight. 



i8 ROPvlEUS AND JULIET 

In often passing so, his busy eyes he threw. 
That every pane and tooting hole the wily lover knew. 450 
In happy hour he doth a garden plot espy, [descry ; 

From which, except he warely walk, men may his love 
For lo, it fronted full upon her leaning place, [face. 

Where she is wont to show her heart by cheerful friendly 
And lest the arbours might their secret love bewray, 45 5 
He doth keep back his forward foot from passing there by day; 
But when on earth the Night her mantle black hath spread ; 
Well armed he walketh forth alone, ne dreadful foes doth dread. 
Whom maketh Love not bold, nay, whom makes he not blind ? 
He reaveth danger's dread oft-times out of the lover's mind. 
By night he passeth here, a week or two in vain ; 461 

And for the missing of his mark his grief hath him nigh 
And Juliet that now doth lack her heart's relief, [slain. 

Her Romeus' pleasant eyne, I mean, is almost dead for grief. 
Each day she changeth hours (for lovers keep an hour 465 
When they are sure to see their love in passing by their 
Impatient of her woe, she happed to lean one night [bower). 
Within her window, and anon the moon did shine so bright 
That she espied her love : her heart revived sprang ; [wrang. 
And now for joy she claps her hands, which erst for woe she 
Eke Romeus, when he saw his long desired sight, 471 

His mourning cloak of moan cast off, hath clad him with 
Yet dare I say, of both that she rejoiced more : [delight. 
His care was great, hers twice as great was all the time before ; 
For whilst she knew not why he did himself absent, [lament. 
Aye doubting both his health and life, his death she did 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 19 

For love is fearful oft where is no cause of fear, [were. 

And what love fears, that love laments, as though it chanced 
Of greater cause alway is greater work y-bred ; [be dead. 
While he nought doubteth of her health, she dreads lest he 
When only absence is the cause of Romeus' smart, 48 1 

By happy hope of sight again he feeds his fainting heart. 
What wonder then if he were wrapped in less annoy ? 
What marvel if by sudden sight she fed of greater joy ? 
His smaller grief or joy no smaller love do prove ; 485 

Ne, for she passed him in both, did she him pass in love : 
But each of them alike did burn in equal flame. 
The well-beloving knight and eke the well-beloved dame. 
Now whilst with bitter tears her eyes as fountains run. 
With whispering voice, y-broke with sobs, thus is her tale 

O Romeus, of your life too lavas sure you are, [begun : 
That in this place, and at this time, to hazard it you dare. 
What if your deadly foes, my kinsmen, saw you here? 493 
Like lions wild, your tender parts asunder would they tear. 
In ruth and in disdain, I, weary of my life, [bloody knife. 
With cruel hand my mourning heart would pierce with 
For you, mine own, once dead, what joy should I have here ? 
And eke my honour stained, which I than life do hold more 

* Fair lady mine, dame Juliet, my life,' quod he, [dear. 
* Even from my birth committed was to fatal sisters three. 500 
They may in spite of foes draw forth my lively thread ; 
And they also, whoso saith nay, asunder may it shred. 
But who to reave my life, his rage and force would bend. 
Perhaps should try unto his pain how I it could defend. 



20 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Ne yet I love it so, but always for your sake, 505 

A sacrifice to death I would my wounded corpse betake. 
If my mishap were such, that here before your sight, 
I should restore again to death, of life, my borrowed light, 
This one thing and no more my parting sprite would rue. 
That part he should before that you by certain trial knew 
The love I owe to you, the thrall I languish in, 511 

And how I dread to lose the gain which I do hope to win ; 
And how I wish for life, not for my proper ease, 
But that in it you might I love, you honour, serve and please, 
Till deadly pangs the sprite out of the corpse shall send:' 515 
And thereupon he sware an oath, and so his tale had end. 

Now love and pity boil in Juliet's ruthful breast ; 
In window on her leaning arm her weary head doth rest ; 
Her bosom bathed in tears, to witness inward pain. 
With dreary cheer to Romeus thus answered she again : 520 

* Ah, my dear Romeus, keep in these words,' quod she, 
* For lo, the thought of such mischance already maketh me 
For pity and for dread well-nigh to yield up breath ; 
In even balance peised are my life and eke my death. 
For so my heart is knit, yea, made one self with yours, 525 
That sure there is no grief so small, by which your mind 
But as you suffer pain, so I do bear in part, [endures. 

Although it lessens not your grief, the half of all your smart. 
But these things overpast, if of your health and mine 
You have respect, or pity aught my teary, weeping eyne. 
In few unfained words your hidden mind unfold, 531 

That as I see your pleasant face, your heart I may behold. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 21 

For if you do intend my honour to defile, 
In error shall you wander still, as you have done this while ; 
But if your thought be chaste, and have on virtue ground. 
If wedlock be the end and markwhich your desire hath found, 
Obedience set aside, unto my parents due, 537 

The quarrel eke that long ago between our households grew, 
Both me and mine I will all whole to you betake. 
And following you whereso you go, my father's house forsake. 
But if by wanton love and by unlawful suit 541 

You think in ripest years to pluck my maidenhood's dainty 
You are beguiled ; and now your Juliet you beseeks [fruit, 
To cease your suit, and suffer her to live among her likes.' 

Then Romeus, whose thought was free from foul desire. 
And to the top of virtue's height did v/orthily aspire, 546 
Was filled with greater joy than can my pen express, [guess. 
Or, till they have enjoyed the like, the hearer's heart can 
And then with joined hands, heaved up into the skies. 
He thanks the Gods, and from the heavens for vengeance down 
If he have other thought but as his lady spake; [he cries. 
And then his look he turned to her, and thus did answer 

* Since, lady, that you like to honour me so much [make : 
As to accept me for your spouse, I yield myself for such. 
In true witness whereof, because I must depart, 555 

Till that my deed do prove my word, I leave in pawn my 
To-morrow eke betimes before the sun arise, [heart. 

To Friar Laurence will I wend, to learn his sage advice. 
He is my ghostly sire, and oft he hath me taught [sought. 
What I should do in things of weight, when I his aid have 



22 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

And at this self-same hour, I plight you here my faith, 561 
I will be here, if you think good, to tell you what he saith.* 
She was contented well ; else favour found he none 
That night at lady Juliet's hand, save pleasant words alone. 
This barefoot friar girt with cord his grayish weed, 565 
For he of Francis' order was, a friar, as I rede. 
Not as the most was he, a gross unlearned fool, 
But doctor of divinity proceeded he in school. 
The secrets eke he knew in Nature's works that lurk ; [work. 
By magic's art most men supposed that he could wonders 
Ne doth it ill beseem divines those skills to know, 571 

If on no harmful deed they do such skilfulness bestow ; 
For justly of no art can men condemn the use. 
But right and reason's lore cry out against the lewd abuse. 
The bounty of the friar and wisdom hath so won [run. 

The townsfolks' hearts, that well nigh all to Friar Laurence 
To shrive themself ; the old, the young, the great and small ; 
Of all he is beloved well, and honoured much of all. 578 
And, for he did the rest in wisdom far exceed, [need. 

The prince by him, his counsel craved, was holp at time of 
Betwixt the Capulets and him great friendship grew, 581 
A secret and assured friend unto the Montague. 
Loved of this young man more than any other guest. 
The friar eke of Verone youth aye lik6d Romeus best ; 
For whom he ever hath in time of his distress, 585 

As erst you heard, by skilful lore found out his harm's re- 
To him is Romeus gone, ne stay'th he till the morrow ; [dress. 
To him he painteth all his case, his passed joy and sorrow. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 23 

How he hath her espied with other dames in dance, 
And how that first to talk with her himself he did advance ; 
Their talk and change of looks he 'gan to him declare, 591 
And how so fast by faith and troth they both y-coupled are, 
That neither hope of life, nor dread of cruel death, [breath. 
Shall make him flilse his faith to her, while life shall lend him 
And then with weeping eyes he prays his ghostly sire 595 
To further and accomplish all their honest hearts' desire. 
A thousand doubts and mo in th' old man's head arose, 
A thousand dangers like to come the old man doth disclose. 
And from the spousal rites he redeth him refrain. 
Perhaps he shall be bet advised within a week or twain. 
Advice is banished quite from those that follow love, 601 
Except advice to what they like their bending mind do move. 
As well the father might have counselled him to stay [way, 
That from a mountain's top thrown down is falling half the 
As warn his friend to stop amid his race begun, 605 

Whom Cupid with his smarting whip enforceth forth to run. 
Part won by earnest suit, the friar doth grant at last ; 
And part, because he thinks the storms, so lately overpast. 
Of both the households' wrath, this marriage might appease ; 
So that they should not rage again, but quite for ever cease. 
The respite of a day he asketh to devise 61 1 

What way were best, unknown, to end so great an enterprise. 
The wounded man that now doth deadly pains endure. 
Scarce patient tarrieth whilst his leech doth make the salve 
So Romeus hardly grants a short day and a night, [to cure : 
Yet needs he must, else must he want his only heart's delight. 



24 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

You see that Romeus no time or pain doth spare; 617 
Think that the whilst fair Juliet is not devoid of care. 
Young Romeus poureth forth his hap and his mishap 
Into the friar's breast ; but where shall Juliet unwrap 620 
The secrets of her heart ? To whom shall she unfold 
Her hidden burning love, and eke her thought and cares so 
The nurse of whom I spake, within her chamber lay, [cold ? 
Upon the maid she waiteth still ; to her she doth bewray 
Her new received wound, and then her aid doth crave, 625 
In her, she saith, it lies to spill, in her, her life to save. 
Not easily she made the froward nurse to bow, [vow 

But won at length with promised hire, she made a solemn 
To do what she commands, as handmaid of her hest ; 
Her mistress' secrets hide she will within her covert breast. 

To Romeus she goes ; of him she doth desire 631 

To know the mean of marriage, by counsel of the friar. 

* On Saturday,' quod he, ^ if Juliet come to shrift, [drift ? ' 
She shall be shrived and married ; how like you, nurse, this 

* Now by my truth,' quod she, * God's blessing have your heart. 
For yet in all my life I have not heard of such a part. 636 
Lord, how you young men can such crafty wiles devise. 

If that you love the daughter well, to blear the mother's eyes. 

An easy thing it is with cloak of holiness 

To mock the seely mother, that suspecteth nothing less. 640 

But that it pleased you to tell me of the case. 

For all my many years, perhaps, 1 should have found it scarce. 

Now for the rest let me and Juliet alone; 

To get her leave, some feat excuse I will devise anon ; 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 25 

For that her golden locks by sloth have been unkempt, 645 
Or for unwares some wanton dream the youthful damsel 
Or for in thoughts of love her Idle time she spent, [drempt. 
Or otherwise within her heart deserved to be shent. 
I know her mother will in no case say her nay ; 
I warrant you, she shall not fail to come on Saturday.' 650 
And then she swears to him, the mother loves her well ; 
And how she gave her suck in youth, she leaveth not to tell. 
* A pretty babe,' quod she, * it was when it was young ; 
Lord, how it could full prettily have prated with it tongue ! 
A thousand times and more I laid her on my lap, 655 

And clapped her on the buttock soft, and kissed where I did 
And gladder then was I of such a kiss, forsooth, [clap. 

Than I had been to have a kiss of some old lecher's mouth.' 
And thus of Juliet's youth began this prating nurse, 
And of her present state to make a tedious, long discourse. 
For though he pleasure took in hearing of his love, 66 1 
The message' answer seemed him to be of more behove. 
But when these beldames sit at ease upon their tail, 
The day and eke the candle-light before their talk shall fail. 
And part they say is true, and part they do devise, 665 

Yet boldly do they chat of both, when no man checks their 
Then he six crowns of gold out of his pocket drew, [lies. 
And gave them her ; 'A slight reward,' quod he, * and so, adieu.' 
In seven years twice told she had not bowed so low [bestow 
Her crooked knees, as now they bow ; she swears she will 
Her crafty wit, her time, and all her busy pain, 671 

To help him to his hoped bliss ; and, cow'ring down again, 



26 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

She takes her leave, and home she hies with speedy pace ; 
The chamber door she shuts, and then she saith with smiling 

* Good news for thee, my girl, good tidings I thee bring, [face : 
Leave off thy wonted song of care, and now of pleasure sing. 
For thou may'st hold thyself the happiest under sun, 6^/ 
That in so little while, so well, so worthy a knight hast won. 
The best y-shaped is he, and hath the fairest face [grace : 
Of all this town, and there is none hath half so good a 
So gentle of his speech, and of his counsel wise : ' 68 1 
And still with many praises more she heaved him to the skies. 

* Tell me else what,' quod she, * this evermore I thought ; 
But of our marriage,say at once,what answer have you brought? ' 
*Nay, soft,' quoth she, ' I fear your hurt by sudden joy.' 685 

* I list not play,' quod Juliet, * although thou list to toy.' 
How glad, trow you, was she, when she had heard her say, 
No farther oft" than Saturday deferred was the day ! 

Again the ancient nurse doth speak of Romeus, [thus.' 

* And then,' said she, * he spake to me, and then I spake him 
Nothing was done or said that she hath left untold, 691 
Save only one, that she forgot, the taking of the gold. 

* There is no loss,' quod she, * sweet wench, to loss of time, 
Ne in thine age shalt thou repent so much of any crime. 
For when I call to mind my former passed youth, 695 
One thing there is w^hich most of all doth cause my endless 
At sixteen years I first did choose my loving fere, [ruth. ^ 
And I was fully ripe before, I dare well say, a year. 

The pleasure that I lost, that year so overpast, [last. 

A thousand times I have bewept, and shall while life doth 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 27 

In faith it were a shame, — yea, sin it were, y-wis, 701 

When thou may'st live in happy joy, to set light by thy bliss.' 
She that this morning could her mistress' mind dissuade, 
Is now become an oratress, her lady to persuade. 
If any man be here whom love hath clad with care, 705 
To him I speak ; if thou wilt speed, thy purse thou must not 
Two sorts of men there are, seld welcome in at door, [spare. 
The wealthy sparing niggard, and the suitor that is poor. 
For glitt'ring gold is wont by kind to move the heart ; 
And oftentimes a slight reward doth cause a more desart. 
Y-written have I read, I wot not in what book, 7 1 1 

There is no better way to fish than with a golden hook. 
Of Romeus these two do sit and chat awhile, [beguile. 

And to themself they laugh how they the mother shall 
A feat excuse they find, but sure I know it not, 715 

And leave for her to go to shrift on Saturday she got. 
So well this Juliet, this wily wench did know 
Her mother's angry hours, and eke the true bent of her bow. 
The Saturday betimes, in sober weed y-clad, [sad. 

She took her leave, and forth she went with visage grave and 
With her the nurse is sent, as bridle of her lust, 721 

With her the mother sends a maid almost of equal trust. 
Betwixt her teeth the bit the jennet now hath caught. 
So warely eke the virgin walks, her maid perceiveth nought. 
She gazeth not in church on young men of the town, 725 
Ne wand'reth she from place to place, but straight she kneeleth 
Upon an altar's step, where she devoutly prays, [down 

And there upon her tender knees the weary lady stays ; 



28 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Whilst she doth send her maid the certain truth to know, 
If Friar Laurence leisure had to hear her shrift, or no. 730 
Out of his shriving place he comes with pleasant cheer; [near. 
The shamefast maid with bashful brow to himward draweth 

* Some great offence,' quoth he, * you have committed late. 
Perhaps you have displeased your friend by giving him a 
Then turning to the nurse and to the other maid, [mate.* 

* Go, hear a mass or two,' quod he, * which straightway shall 
For, her confession heard, I will unto you twain [be said. 
The charge that I received of you restore to you again.' 
What, was not Juliet, trow you, right well apaid ? 739 
That for this trusty friar hath changed her young mistrusting 
I dare well say, there is in all Verona none, [maid ? 
But Romeus, with whom she would so gladly be alone. 
Thus to the friar's cell they both forth walked bin ; 

He shuts the door as soon as he and Juliet were in. 
But Romeus, her friend, was entered in before, 745 

And there had waited for his love, two hours large and more. 
Each minute seemed an hour, and every hour a day, 
'Twixt hope he lived and despair of coming or of stay. 
Now wavering hope and fear are quite fled out of sight, 
For what he hoped he hath at hand, his pleasant, chief delight. 
And joyful Juliet is healed of all her smart, 75 I 

For now the rest of all her parts have found her straying heart. 
Both their confessions first the friar hath heard them make. 
And then to her with louder voice thus Friar Laurence spake : 
*Fair lady Juliet, my ghostly daughter dear, 755 

As far as I of Romeus learn, who by you standeth here, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 29 

'Twixt you it is agreed, that you shall be his wife, 
And he your spouse in steady truth, till death shall end your 
Are you both fully bent to keep this great behest ? ' [life. 
And both the lovers said, it was their only heart's request. 
When he did see their minds in links of love so fast, 761 
When in the praise of wedlock's state some skilful talk was 
When he had told at length the wife what was her due, [past. 
His duty eke by ghostly talk the youthful husband knew ; 
How that the wife in love must honour and obey, 765 

What love and honour he doth owe, and debt that he must 
The words pronounced were which holy church of old [pay. 
Appointed hath for marriage, and she a ring of gold 
Received of Romeus ; and then they both arose, [disclose. 
To whom the friar then said : * Perchance apart you will 
Betwixt yourself alone, the bottom of your heart ; 771 

Say on at once, for time it is that hence you should depart.' 
Then Romeus said to her, both loth to part so soon, 
* Fair lady, send to me again your nurse this afternoon. 
Of cord I will bespeak a ladder by that time ; 775 

By which, this night, while others sleep, I will your window 
Then will we talk of love and of our old despairs, [climb. 
And then, with longer leisure had, dispose our great affairs.' 
These said, they kiss, and then part to their fathers' house. 
The joyful bride unto her home, to his eke go'th the spouse : 
Contented both, and yet both uncontented still, 781 

Till Night and Venus' child give leave the wedding to fulfil. 
The painful soldier, sore y-beat with weary war, [far. 

The merchant eke that needful things doth dread to fetch from 



30 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The ploughman that for doubt of fierce invading foes, 785 
Rather to sit in idle ease than sow his tilt hath chose, 
Rejoice to hear proclaimed the tidings of the peace ; [cease, 
Not pleasured with the sound so much ; but, when the wars do 
Then ceased are the harms which cruel war brings forth : 
The merchant then may boldly fetch his wares of precious 
Dreadless the husbandman doth till his fertile field, [worth ; 
For wealth, her mate, not for herself, is peace so precious 
So lovers live in care, in dread, and in unrest, [held : 

And deadly war by striving thoughts they keep within their 
But wedlock is the peace whereby is freedom won [breast : 
To do a thousand pleasant things that should not else be done. 
The news of ended war these two have heard with joy, 797 
But now they long the fruit of peace with pleasure to enjoy. 
In stormy wind and wave, in danger to be lost. 
Thy steerless ship, O Romeus, hath been long while betossed ; 
The seas are now appeased, and thou, by happy star, 801 
Art come in sight of quiet haven ; and, now the wrackful 
Is hid with swelling tide, boldly thou may'st resort [bar 

Unto thy wedded lady's bed, thy long desired port. 
God grant, no folly's mist so dim thy inward sight, 805 
That thou do miss the channel that doth lead to thy delight. 
God grant, no danger's rock, y-lurking in the dark. 
Before thou win the happy port, wrack thy sea-beaten bark. 
A servant Romeus had, of word and deed so just, [trust. 
That with his life, if need required, his master would him 
His faithfulness had oft our Romeus proved of old ; 8 n 
And therefore all that yet was done unto his man he told, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 31 

Who straight, as he was charged, a corden ladder looks. 
To which he hath made fast two strong and crooked iron 
The bride to send the nurse at twilight faileth not, [hooks. 
To whom the bridegroom given hath the ladder that he got. 
And then to watch for him appointeth her an hour; 
For whether Fortune smile on him, or if she list to lower, 
He will not miss to come to his appointed place, 819 

Where wont he was to take by stealth the view of Juliet's face. 
How long these lovers thought the lasting of the day, 
Let other judge that wonted are like passions to assay : 
For my part, I do guess each hour seems twenty year : 
So that I deem, if they might have, as of Alcume we hear. 
The sun bound to their will, if they the heavens might guide, 
Black shade of night and doubled dark should straight all over 
Th' appointed hour is come ; he, clad in rich array, [hide. 
Walks toward his desired home : good fortune guide his way. 
Approaching near the place from whence his heart had life, 
So light he wox, he leapt the wall, and there he spied his wife, 
Who in the window watched the coming of her lord ; 83 i 
Where she so surely had made fast the ladder made of cord, 
That dangerless her spouse the chamber window climbs, 
Where he ere then had wished himself above ten thousand 
The windows close are shut; else look they for no guest; [times. 
To light the waxen quariers, the ancient nurse is pressed. 
Which Juliet had before prepared to be light, 837 

That she at pleasure might behold her husband's beauty 
A kerchief white as snow ware Juliet on her head, [bright. 
Such as she wonted was to wear, attire meet for the bed. 



32 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

As soon as she him spied, about his neck she clung, 841 
And by her long and slender arms a great while there she 
A thousand times she kissed, and him unkissed again, [hung. 
Ne could she speak a word to him, though would she ne'er 
And like betwixt his arms to faint his lady is ; [so fain. 

She fets a sigh and clappeth close her closed mouth to his ; 
And ready then to sownd she looked ruthfully. 
That lo, it made him both at once to live and eke to die. 
These piteous painful pangs were haply overpast, 849 

And she unto herself again returned home at last. [part. 
Then, through her troubled breast, even from the farthest 
An hollow sigh, a messenger, she sendeth from her heart. 

Romeus, quoth she, in whom all virtues shine, [mine 
Welcome thou art into this place, where from these eyes of 
Such teary streams did flow, that I suppose well-nigh 855 
The source of all my bitter tears is altogether dry. 
Absence so pined my heart, which on thy presence fed. 
And of thy safety and thy health so much I stood in dread. 
But now what is decreed by fatal destiny, 

1 force it not ; let Fortune do, and death, their worst to me. 
Full recompensed am I for all my passed harms, 861 
In that the Gods have granted me to clasp thee in mine arms. 
The crystal tears began to stand in Romeus' eyes, 

When he unto his lady's words 'gan answer in this wise : 

* Though cruel Fortune be so much my deadly foe, 865 
That I ne can by lively proof cause thee, fair dame, to know 
How much I am by love enthralled unto thee, 
Ne yet what mighty power thou hast, by thy desert, on me. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 33 

Ne torments that for thee I did ere this endure, 
Yet of thus much, ne will 1 feign, I may thee well assure ; 
The least of many pains which of thy absence sprung, 871 
More painfully than death itself my tender heart hath wrung. 
Ere this, one death had reft a thousand deaths away, 
But life prolonged was by hope of this desired day ; 
Which so just tribute pays of all my passed moan, 875 

That I as well contented am as if myself alone 
Did from the Ocean reign unto the sea of Ind. 
Wherefore now let us wipe away old cares out of our mind. 
For as the wretched state is now redressed at last. 
So is it skill behind our back the cursed care to cast. 880 
Since Fortune of her grace hath place and time assigned, 
Where we with pleasure may content our uncontented mind, 
In Lethes hide we deep all grief and all annoy, [PY- 

Whilst we do bathe in bliss, and fill our hungry hearts with 
And, for the time to come, let be our busy care 885 

So wisely to direct our love, as no wight else be ware ; 
Lest envious foes by force despoil our new delight. 
And us throw back from happy state to more unhappy plight.' 
Fair Juliet began to answer what he said, [stayed. 

But forth in haste the old nurse stepped, and so her answer 
'Who takes not time,' quoth she, 'when time well offered is, 
Another time shall seek for time, and yet of time shall miss. 
And when occasion serves, whoso doth let it slip. 
Is worthy sure, if I might judge, of lashes with a whip. 
Wherefore if each of you hath harmed the other so, 895 
And each of you hath been the cause of other's wailed woe, 



34 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Lo here a field' — she showed a field-bed ready dight — 
'Where you may, if you list, in arms revenge yourself by fight.' 
Whereto these lovers both 'gan easily assent, [went, 

And to the place of mild revenge with pleasant cheer they 
Where they were left alone — the nurse is gone to rest — 90 1 
How can this be ? They restless lie, ne yet they feel unrest. 
I grant that I envy the bliss they liv6d in ; 
Oh that I might have found the like, I wish it for no sin, 
But that I might as well with pen their joys depaint, 905 
As heretofore I have displayed their secret hidden plaint. 
Of shivering care and dread I have felt many a fit, 
But Fortune such delight as theirs did never grant me yet. 
By proof no certain truth can I unhappy write. 
But what I guess by likelihood, that dare I to indite. 910 
The blindfold goddess that with frowning face doth fray. 
And from their seat the mighty kings throws down with head- 
Beginneth now to turn to these her smiling face ; [long sway, 
Needs must they taste of great delight, so much in Fortune's 
If Cupid, god of love, be god of pleasant sport, [grace. 

I think, O Romeus, Mars himself envies thy happy sort. 
Ne Venus justly might, as I suppose, repent, 917 

If in thy stead, O Juliet, this pleasant time she spent. 

Thus pass they forth the night, in sport, in jolly game ; 
The hastiness of Phoebus' steeds in great despite they blame. 
And now the virgin's fort hath warlike Romeus got, 921 
In which as yet no breach was made by force of cannon shot, 
And now in ease he doth possess the hop6d place : [embrace. 
How glad was he, speak you that may your lover's parts 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 35 

The marriage thus made up, and both the parties pleased, 
The nigh approach of day's return these seely fools dis-eased. 
And for they might no while in pleasure pass their time, 
Ne leisure had they much to blame the hasty morning's crime, 
With friendly kiss in arms of her his leave he takes, 929 
And every other night, to come, a solemn oath he makes, 
By one self mean, and eke to come at one self hour : 
And so he doth, till Fortune list to sauce his sweet with sour. 
But who is he that can his present state assure ? 
And say unto himself, thy joys shall yet a day endure ? 934. 
So wavering Fortune's wheel, her changes be so strange ; 
And every wight y-thralled is by Fate unto her change, 
Who reigns so over all, that each man hath his part 
(Although not aye, perchance, alike) of pleasure and of smart. 
For after many joys some feel but little pain. 
And from that little grief they turn to happy joy again. 
But other some there are, that, living long in woe, 941 

At length they be in quiet ease, but long abide not so ; 
Whose grief is much increased by mirth that went before, 
Because the sudden change of things doth make it seem the 
Of this unlucky sort our Romeus is one, [more. 

For all his hap turns to mishap, and all his mirth to moan. 
And joyful Juliet another leaf must turn ; 947 

As wont she was, her joys bereft, she must begin to mourn. 

The summer of their bliss doth last a month or twain. 
But winter's blast with speedy foot doth bring the fall again. 
Whom glorious Fortune erst had heaved to the skies, 951 
By envious Fortune overthrown, on earth now grovelling lies. 



36 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

She paid their former grief with pleasure's doubled gain, 
But now for pleasure's usury, tenfold redoubleth pain. 

The prince could never cause those households so agree. 
But that some sparkles of their wrath as yet remaining be ; 
Which lie this while raked up in ashes pale and dead, 957 
Till time do serve that they again in wasting flame may spread. 
At holiest times, men say, most heinous crimes are done ; 
The morrow after Easter day the mischief new begun. 960 
A band of Capulets did meet — my heart it rues ! — 
Within the walls, by Purser's gate, a band of Montagues. 
The Capulets, as chief, a young man have chose out, 
Best exercised in feats of arms, and noblest of the rout, 
Our Juliet's uncle's son, that cleped was Tybalt ; 965 

He was of body tall and strong, and of his courage halt. 
They need no trumpet sound to bid them give the charge. 
So loud he cried with strained voice and mouth outstretched 
large : 

'Now, now,' quod he, 'my friends, ourself so let us wreak. 
That of this day's revenge and us our children's heirs may 
speak. 970 

Now once for all let us their swelling pride assuage ; 
Let none of them escape alive.' Then he, with furious rage. 
And they with him, gave charge upon their present foes. 
And then forthwith a skirmish great upon this fray arose. 
For, lo, the Montagues thought shame away to fly, 975 
And rather than to live with shame, with praise did choose 
The words that Tybalt used to stir his folk to ire, [to die. 
Have in the breasts of Montagues kindled a furious fire. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 37 

With lions' hearts they fight, warely themself defend ; 979 
To wound his foe, his present wit and force each one doth 
This furious fray is long on each side stoutly fought, [bend. 
That whether part had got the worst, full doubtful were the 
The noise hereof anon throughout the town doth fly, [thought. 
And parts are taken on every side ; both kindreds thither hie. 
Here one doth gasp for breath, his friend bestrideth him ; 
And he hath lost a hand, and he another maimed limb, 
His leg is cut whilst he strikes at another full, [cracked skull. 
And whom he would have thrust quite through, hath cleft his 
Their valiant hearts forbode their foot to give the ground ; 
With unappalled cheer they took full deep and doubtful 
wound. 990 

Thus foot by foot long while, and shield to shield set fast. 
One foe doth make another faint, but makes him not aghast. 
And whilst this noise is rife in every townsman's ear, [hear. 
Eke, walking with his friends, the noise doth woeful Romeus 
With speedy foot he runs unto the fray apace ; [place. 

With him, those few that were with him he leadeth to the 
They pity much to see the slaughter made so great, [street. 
That wetshod they might stand in blood on either side the 
* Part, friends,' said he ; ' Part, friends — help, friends, to part 

the fray,' 
And to the rest, * Enough,' he cries, ' Now time it is to stay. 
God's farther wrath you stir, beside the hurt you feel, 1 00 1 
And with this new uproar confound all this our commonweal.' 
But they so busy are in fight, so eager and fierce, [pierce. 
That through their ears his sage advice no leisure had to 



38 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Then leapt he in the throng, to part and bar the blows 
As well of those that were his friends, as of his deadly foes. 
As soon as Tybalt had our Romeus espied, [to side ; 

He threw a thrust at him that would have passed from side 
But Romeus ever went, doubting his foes, well armed, [harmed. 
So that the sword, kept out by mail, hath nothing Romeus 
' Thou dost me wrong,' quoth he, ' for I but part the fray ; 
Not dread, but other weighty cause my hasty hand doth stay. 
Thou art the chief of thine, the noblest eke thou art, 1013 
Wherefore leave off thy malice now, and help these folk to 
Many are hurt, some slain, and some are like to die.' [part. 
' No, coward, traitor boy,' quoth he, ' straightway I mind to 
Whether thy sugared talk, and tongue so smoothly filed, [try, 
Against the force of this my sword shall serve thee for a shield. 
And then at Romeus' head a blow he strake so hard, 1019 
That might have clove him to the brain but for his cunning 
It was but lent to him that could repay again, [ward. 

And give him death for interest, a well forborne gain. 
Right as a forest boar, that lodged in the thick. 
Pinched with dog, or else with spear y-pricked to the quick, 
His bristles stiff upright upon his back doth set, 1025 

And in his foamy mouth his sharp and crooked tusks doth 
Or as a lion wild that rampeth in his rage, [whet ; 

His whelps bereft, whose fury can no weaker beast assuage ; 
Such seemed Romeus in every other's sight, [fight. 

When he him shope, of wrong received t' avenge himself by 
Even as two thunderbolts thrown down out of the sky, [fly ; 
That through the air, the massy earth, and seas, have power to 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 39 

So met these two, and while they change a blow or twain, 
Our Romeus thrust him through the throat, and so is Tybalt 
Lo, here the end of those that stir a deadly strife ; [slain. 
Who thirsteth after other's death, himself hath lost his life. 
The Capulets are quailed by Tybalt's overthrow, 1 03 7 

The courage of the Montagues by Romeus' sight doth grow. 
The townsmen waxen strong, the Prince doth send his force ; 
The fray hath end. The Capulets do bring the breathless 
Before the Prince, and crave that cruel deadly pain [corse 
May be the guerdon of his fault, that hath their kinsman slain. 
The Montagues do plead their Romeus void of fault; 1043 
The lookers-on do say, the fight begun was by Tybalt. 
The Prince doth pause, and then gives sentence in a while, 
That Romeus for slaying him should go into exile. 
His foes would have him hanged, or sterve in prison strong ; 
His friends do think, but dare not say, that Romeus hath 
wrong. 1 048 

Both households straight are charged on pain of losing life, 
Their bloody weapons laid aside, to cease the stirred strife. 
This common plague is spread through all the town anon. 
From side to side the town is filled with murmur and with 
For Tybalt's hasty death bewailed was of some, [moan, 

Both for his skill in feats of arms, and for, in time to come 
He should, had this not chanced, been rich and of great power, 
To help his friends, and serve the state ; which hope within 
an hour 1056 

Was wasted quite, and he, thus yielding up his breath, [death. 
More than he holp the town in life, hath harmed it by his 



40 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

And other some bewail, but ladies most of all, 
The luckless lot by Fortune's guilt that is so late befall, 
Without his fault, unto the seely Romeus ; 1 06 1 

For whilst that he from native land shall live exiled thus, 
From heavenly beauty's light and his well-shaped parts. 
The sight of which was wont, fair dames, to glad your youth- 
Shall you be banished quite, and till he do return, [ful hearts, 
What hope have you to joy, what hope to cease to mourn ? 
This Romeus was born so much in heaven's grace, 1067 
Of Fortune and of Nature so beloved, that in his face, 
Beside the heavenly beauty glist'ring aye so bright, 
And seemly grace that wonted so to glad the seer's sight, 
A certain charm was graved by Nature's secret art, 1 071 
That virtue had to draw to it the love of many a heart. 
So every one doth wish to bear a part of pain. 
That he released of exile might straight return again. 
But how doth mourn among the mourners Juliet ! [she fet ! 
How doth she bathe her breast in tears ! "What deep sighs doth 
How doth she tear her hair ! Her weed how doth she rent ! 
How fares the lover hearing of her lover's banishment ! 1078 
How wails she Tybalt's death, whom she had loved so well ! 
Her hearty grief and piteous plaint, cunning I want to tell. 
For delving deeply now in depth of deep despair, 1 08 1 

With wretched sorrow's cruel sound she fills the empty air ; 
And to the lowest hell down falls her heavy cry. 
And up unto the heaven's height her piteous plaint doth fly. 
The waters and the woods of sighs and sobs resound, 
And from the hard resounding rocks her sorrows do rebound. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 41 

Eke from her teary eyne down rain6d many a shower, 
That in the garden where she walked might water herb and 
But when at length she saw herself outraged so, [flower. 
Unto her chamber straight she hied ; there, overcharged with 
Upon her stately bed her painful parts she threw, [woe. 
And in so wondrous wise began her sorrows to renew, 1 092 
That sure no heart so hard, but it of flint had bin, 
But would have rued the piteous plaint that she did languish 
Then rapt out of herself, whilst she on every side [in. 

Did cast her restless eye, at length the window she espied, 
Through which she had with joy seen Romeus many a time. 
Which oft the vent'rous knight was wont for Juliet's sake to 
She cried, 'O cursed window, accursed be every pane, [climb. 
Through which, alas, too soon I raught the cause of life and 
If by thy mean I have some slight delight received, [bane ; 
Or else such fading pleasure as by Fortune straight was reaved. 
Hast thou not made me pay a tribute rigorous 1 103 

Of heaped grief and lasting care, and sorrov/s dolorous. 
That these my tender parts, which needful strength do lack 
To bear so great unwieldy load upon so weak a back, 
Oppressed with weight of cares and with these sorrows rife. 
At length must open wide to death the gates of loathed life ; 
That so my weary sprite may somewhere else unload 1 109 
His deadly load, and free from thrall may seek elsewhere 
For pleasant, quiet ease and for assured rest, [abode 

Which I as yet could never find but for my more unrest ? 
O Romeus, when first we both acquainted were. 
When to thy painted promises I lent my list'ning ear, 



42 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Which to the brinks you filled with many a solemn oath, 
And I them judged empty of guile, and fraughted full of 
I thought you rather would continue our good will, [troth, 
And seek t' appease our fathers' strife, which daily groweth 
I little weened you would have sought occasion how [still. 
By such an heinous act to break the peace and eke your vow ; 
Whereby your bright renown all whole y-clipsed is, 1 1 2 1 
And I unhappy, husbandless, of comfort robbed and bliss. 
But if you did so much the blood of Capels thirst, 
Why have you often spared mine? — mine might have 

quenched it first. 
Since that so many times and in so secret place, 1 125 

Where you were wont with veil of love to hide your hatred's 
My doubtful life hath happed by fatal doom to stand [face. 
In mercy of your cruel heart, and of your bloody hand. 
What ? — seemed the conquest which you got of me so small ? 
What? — seemed it not enough that I, poor wretch, was 

made your thrall ? 1 1 30 

But that you must increase it with that kinsman's blood, 
Which for his worth and love to me, most in my favour stood ? 
Well, go henceforth elsewhere, and seek another while 
Some other as unhappy as I, by flattery to beguile. 1 134 
And, where I come, see that you shun to show your face. 
For your excuse within my heart shall find no resting place. 
And I that now, too late, my former fault repent, 
Will so the rest of weary life with many tears lament. 
That soon my joiceless corpse shall yield up banished breath, 
And where on earth it restless lived, in earth seek rest by death.' 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 43 

These said, her tender heart, by pain oppressed sore, 1 141 
Restrained her tears, and forced her tongue to keep her talk 
And then as still she was, as if in sownd she lay, [in store ; 
And then again, wroth with herself, with feeble voice 'gan 

*Ah, cruel murthering tongue, murth'rer of others' fame,[say : 
How durst thou once attempt to touch the honour of his name I 
Whose deadly foes do yield him due and earned praise ; 
For though his freedom be bereft, his honour not decays. 
Why blam'st thou Romeus for slaying of Tybalt, 1 149 

Since he is guiltless quite of all, and Tybalt bears the fault ? 
Whither shall he, alas, poor banished man, now fly ? 
What place of succour shall he seek beneath the starry sky ? 
Since she pursueth him, and him defames by wrong. 
That in distress should be his fort, and only rampire strong. 
Receive the recompense, O Romeus, of thy wife, 1^55 

Who, for she was unkind herself, doth offer up her life, 
In flames of ire, in sighs, in sorrow and in ruth. 
So to revenge the crime she did commit against thy truth.' 
These said, she could no more ; her senses all 'gan fail. 
And deadly pangs began straightway her tender heart assail ; 
Her limbs she stretched forth, she drew no more her breath : 
Who had been there might well have seen the signs of present 
The nurse that knew no cause why she absented her, [death. 
Did doubt lest that some sudden grief too much tormented her. 
Each where but where she was the careful beldam sought ; 
Last, of the chamber where she lay she haply her bethought ; 
Where she with piteous eye her nurse-child did behold. 
Her limbs stretched out, her outward parts as any marble cold. 



44 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The nurse supposed that she had paid to death her debt, 
And then, as she had lost her wits, she cried to Juliet : 1 1 70 
* Ah, my dear heart,' quoth she, ' how grieveth me thy death ? 
Alas, what cause hast thou thus soon to yield up living breath ?' 
But while she handled her, and chafed every part, [heart, 
She Icnew there was some spark of life by beating of her 
So that a thousand times she called upon her name ; 1 175 
There is no way to help a trance but she hath tried the same : 
She openeth wide her mouth, she stoppeth close her nose, 
She bendeth down her breast, she wrings her fingers and her 
And on her bosom cold she layeth clothes hot ; [toes, 

A warmed anda wholesome juice she pourethdown her throat. 
At length doth Juliet heave faintly up her eyes, [spies. 
And then she stretcheth forth her arm, and then her nurse she 
But when she was awaked from her unkindly trance, 1 183 
' Why dost thou trouble me,' quoth she, 'what drave thee, with 

mischance, 
To come to see my sprite forsake my breathless corse ? 
Go hence, and let me die, if thou have on my smart 

remorse. 
For who would see her friend to live in deadly pain ? 
Alas, I see my grief begun for ever will remain. 
Or who would seek to live, all pleasure being past ? 1 189 
My mirth is done, my mourning moan for aye is like to last. 
Wherefore since that there is none other remedy, [die.' 

Come, gentle death, and rive my heart at once, and let me 
The nurse with trickling tears, to witness inward smart, 
With hollow sigh fetched from the depth of her appalled heart. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 45 

Thus spake to Juliet, j'-clad with ugly care : 1 195 

'Good lady mine, I do not know what makes you thus to 
Ne yet the cause of your unmeasured heaviness. [fare ; 

But of this one I you assure, for care and sorrow's stress, 
This hour large and more I thought, so God me save, 1 199 
That my dead corpse should v/ait on yours to your untimely 
'Alas, my tender nurse and trusty friend,' quoth she, [grave.* 
' Art thou so blind that with thine eye thou canst not easely 
The lawful cause I have to sorrow and to mourn, [see 

Since those the which I held most dear, I have at once forlorn.' 
Her nurse then answered thus : ' Methinks it sits you ill 
To fall In these extremities that may you guiltless spill. 
For when the storms of care and troubles do arise, 
Then is the time for men to know the foolish from the wise. 
You are accounted wise, a fool am I your nurse ; 1209 

But I see not how in like case I could behave me worse. 
Tybalt your friend is dead ; what, ween you by your tears 
To call him back again ? think you that he your crying 
You shall perceive the fault, if it be justly tried, [hears ? 
Of his so sudden death, was in his rashness and his pride. 
Would you that Romeus himself had wronged so, 1 2 1 5 

To suffer himself causeless to be outraged of his foe, 
To whom in no respect he ought a place to give ? 
Let it suffice to thee, fair dame, that Romeus doth live, 
And that there Is good hope that he, within a while, 
With greater glory shall be called home from his hard exile. 
How well y-born he is, thyself, I know, canst tell, 1221 
By kindred strong, and well allied, of all beloved well. 



46 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

With patience arm thyself, for though that Fortune's crime, 
Without your fault, to both your griefs, depart you for a time, 
I dare say, for amends of all your present pain, 1225 

She will restore your own to you, within a month or twain. 
With such contented ease as never erst you had ; 
Wherefore rejoice a while in hope, and be ne more so sad. 
And that I may discharge your heart of heavy care, 
A certain way I have found out, my pains ne will I spare, 
To learn his present state, and what in time to come 123 I 
He minds to do ; which known by me, you shall know all and 
But that I dread the whilst your sorrows will you quell, [some. 
Straight would I hie where he doth lurk, to Friar Laurence' 
But if you 'gin eftsoons, as erst you did, to mourn, [cell. 
Whereto go I ? you will be dead, before I thence return. 
So I shall spend in waste my time and busy pain. 1237 

So unto you, your life once lost, good answer comes in vain ; 
So shall I rid myself with this sharp-pointed knife ; 
So shall you cause your parents dear wax weary of their life ; 
So shall your Romeus, despising lively breath, 1241 

With hasty foot, before his time, run to untimely death. 
Where, if you can awhile, by reason, rage suppress, 
I hope at my return to bring the salve of your distress. 
Now choose to have me here a partner of your pain, 1245 
Or promise me to feed on hope till I return again.' 

Her mistress sends her forth, and makes a grave behest 
With reason's reign to rule the thoughts that rage within her 
When hugy heaps of harms are heaped before her eyes, [breast. 
Then vanish they by hope of 'scape ; and thus the lady lies 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 47 

'Twixt well assured trust, and doubtful lewd despair : 1 2 5 1 
Now black and ugly be her thoughts ; now seem they white 

and fair. 
As oft in summer tide black clouds do dim the sun, 
And straight again in clearest sky his restless steeds do run ; 
So Juliet's wand'ring mind y-clouded is with woe, 1255 
And by and by her hasty thought the woes doth overgo. 

But now is time to tell, whilst she was tossed thus. 
What winds did drive or haven did hold her lover, Romeus. 
When he had slain his foe that 'gan this deadly strife, 1259 
And saw the furious fray had end by ending Tybalt's life. 
He fled the sharp revenge of those that yet did live. 
And doubting much what penal doom the troubled prince 

might give. 
He sought somewhere unseen to lurk a little space. 
And trusty Laurence' secret cell he thought the surest place. 
In doubtful hap aye best a trusty friend is tried ; 1265 

The friendly friar in this distress doth grant his friend to 
A secret place he hath, well sealed round about, [hide. 

The mouth of which so close is shut, that none may find it 
But room there is to walk, and place to sit and rest, [out ; 
Beside a bed to sleep upon, full soft and trimly drest. 1270 
The floor is plank6d so, with mats it is so warm, [to harm. 
That neither wind nor smoky damps have power him aught 
Where he was wont in youth his fair friends to bestow. 
There now he hideth Romeus, whilst forth he goeth to know 
Both what is said and done, and what appointed pain, 1275 
Is published by trumpet's sound ; then home he hies again. 



48 - ROMEUS AND JULIET 

By this, unto his cell the nurse with speedy pace 
Was come the nearest way ; she sought no idle resting place. 
The friar sent home the news of Romeus' certain health, 
And promise made, what so befell, he should that night by 
Come to his wonted place, that they m needful wise [stealth 
Of their affairs in time to come might thoroughly devise. 
Those joyful news the nurse brought hom.e with merry joy ; 
And now our Juliet joys to think she shall her love enjoy. 
The friar shuts fast his door, and then to him beneath, 
That waits to hear the doubtful news of life or else of death, 
*Thy hap,' quoth he, *is good, danger of death is none, 
But thou shalt live, and do full well, in spite of spiteful fone. 
This only pain for thee was erst proclaimed aloud, 1289 
A banished man, thou may'st thee not within Verona shroud.' 

These heavy tidings heard, his golden locks he tare. 
And like a frantic man hath torn the garments that he ware. 
And as the smitten deer in brakes is walt'ring found, [ground. 
So wal'treth he, and with his breast doth beat the trodden 
He rises eft, and strikes his head against the walls, 1295 
He falleth down again, and loud for hasty death he calls. 
' Come speedy death,' quoth he, ' the readiest leech in love ; 
Since nought can else beneath the sun the ground of grief 

remove, 
Of loathsome life break down the hated, staggering stays, 
Destroy, destroy at once the life that faintly yet decays. 1 300 
But you, fair dame, in whom dame Nature did devise 
With cunning hand to work that might seem wondrous in 
our eyes, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 49 

For you, I pray the Gods, your pleasures to increase, 
And all mishap, with this my death, for evermore to cease. 
And mighty Jove with speed of justice bring them low, 
Whose lofty pride, without our guilt, our bliss doth overblow. 
And Cupid grant to those their speedy wrongs' redress, 
That shall bewail my cruel death and pity her distress.' 
Therewith a cloud of sighs he breathed into the skies, 1309 
And two great streams of bitter tears ran from his swollen 

eyes. 
These things the ancient friar with sorrow saw and heard. 
Of such beginning, eke the end, the wise man greatly feared. 
But lo, he was so weak, by reason of his age. 
That he ne could by force repress the rigour of his rage. 
His wise and friendly words he speaketh to the air, 1 3 1 5 
For Romeus so vexed is with care and with despair. 
That no advice can pierce his close forestopped ears ; 
So now the friar doth take his part in shedding ruthful tears. 
With colour pale and wan, with arms full hard y-fold. 
With woeful cheer his wailing friend he standeth to behold. 
And then our Romeus with tender hands y-wrung, 1321 
With voice with plaint made hoarse, with sobs, and with a 

falt'ring tongue, 
Renewed with novel moan the dolours of his heart ; 
His outward dreary cheer bewrayed his store of inward smart. 
First Nature did he blame, the author of his life, 1325 

In which his joys had been so scant, and sorrows aye so rife ; 
The time and place of birth he fiercely did reprove. 
He cried out, with open mouth, against the stars above ; 

£ 



50 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The fatal sisters three, he said, had done him wrong. 
The thread that should not have been spun, they had drawn 
forth too long. I33C^ 

He wished that he had before this time been born, 
Or that as soon as he wan light, his life he had forlorn. 
His nurse he cursed, and the hand that gave him pap, 
The midwife eke with tender grip that held him in her lap ; 
And then did he complain on Venus' cruel son, ^335 

Who led him first unto the rocks which he should warely 

shun : 
By means whereof he lost both life and liberty, 
And died a hundred times a day, and yet could never die. 
Love's troubles lasten long, the joys he gives are short ; 
He forceth not a lover's pain, their earnest is his sport. 1 34a 
A thousand things and more I here let pass to write, 
Which unto Love this woeful man did speak in great despite. 
On Fortune eke he railed, he called her deaf and blind, 
Unconstant, fond, deceitful, rash, unruthful, and unkind. 
And to himself he laid a great part of the fault, 1345 

For that he slew and was not slain, in fighting with Tybalt* 
He blamed all the world, and all he did defy. 
But Juliet for whom he lived, for whom eke would he die. 

When after raging fits appeased was his rage. 
And when his passions, poured forth, 'gan partly to assuage^ 
So wisely did the friar unto his tale reply, 1351 

That he straight cared for his life, that erst had care to die._ 
* Art thou,' quoth he, *a man ? Thy shape saith, so thou art ;. 
Thy crying, and thy weeping eyes denote a woman's heart. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 5 1 

For manly reason is quite from off thy mind outchased, 1355 
And in her stead affections lewd and fancies highly placed : 
So that I stood in doubt, this hour, at the least. 
If thou a man or woman wert, or else a brutish beast. 
A wise man in the midst of troubles and distress [redress. 
Still stands not wailing present harm, but seeks his harm's 
As when the winter flaws with dreadful noise arise, 1361 
And heave the foamy swelling waves up to the starry skies, 
So that the bruis6d bark in cruel seas betost, 
Despaireth of the happy haven, in danger to be lost, 
The pilot bold at helm, cries, "Mates, strike now your sail," 
And turns her stem into the waves that strongly her assail ; 
Then driven hard upon the bare and wrackful shore, 1367 
In greater danger to be wracked than he had been before. 
He seeth his ship full right against the rock to run. 
But yet he doth what lieth in him the perilous rock to shun : 
Sometimes the beaten boat, by cunning government, 1371 
The anchors lost, the cables broke, and all the tackle spent. 
The rudder smitten off, and overboard the mast. 
Doth win the long desired port, the stormy danger past : 
But if the master dread, and overpressed with woe 1375 
Begin to wring his hands, and lets the guiding rudder go. 
The ship rents on the rock, or sinketh in the deep. 
And eke the coward drenched is : So, if thou still beweep 
And seek not how to help the changes that do chance, 1379 
Thy cause of sorrow shall increase, thou cause of thy mis- 
Other account thee wise, prove not thyself a fool ; [chance. 
Now put in practice lessons learned of old in wisdom's school. 



52 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The wise man saith, " Beware thou double not thy pain, 
For one perhaps thou may'st abide, but hardly suffer twain." 
As well we ought to seek things hurtful to decrease, 1385 
As to endeavour helping things by study to increase. 
The praise of true freedom in wisdom's bondage lies, 
He winneth blame whose deeds be fond, although his words 
Sickness the body's gaol, grief gaol is of the mind, [be wise. 
If thou canst 'scape from heavy grief, true freedom shalt thou 
Fortune can fill nothing so full of hearty grief, [find. 

But in the same a constant mind finds solace and relief. 
Virtue is always thrall to troubles and annoy, 1393 

But wisdom in adversity finds cause of quiet joy. 
And they most wretched are that know no wretchedness. 
And after great extremity mishaps aye waxen less. 
Like as there is no weal but wastes away sometime. 
So every kind of wail6d woe will wear away in time. 
If thou wilt master quite the troubles that thee spill, 
Endeavour first by reason's help to master witless will. 1400 
A sundry med'cine hath each sundry faint disease, 
But patience, a common salve, to every wound gives ease. 
The world is alway full of chances and of change, [strange. 
Wherefore the change of chance must not seem to a wise man 
For tickel Fortune doth, in changing, but her kind, 1405 
But all her changes cannot change a steady constant mind. 
Though wavering Fortune turn from thee her smiling face. 
And Sorrow seek to set himself in banished Pleasure's place. 
Yet may thy marred state be mended in a while, [smile. 
And she eftsoons that frowneth now, with pleasant cheer shall 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 53 

For as her happy state no long while standeth sure, 141 1 
Even so the heavy plight she brings, not alw^ays doth endure. 
What need so many words to thee that art so wise ? 
Thou better canst advise thyself, than I can thee advise. 
Wisdom, I see, is vain, if thus in time of need 141 5 

A wise man's wit unpractised doth stand him in no stede. 
I know thou hast some cause of sorrow and of care, 
But well I wot thou hast no cause thus franticly to fare. 
Affection's foggy mist thy feebled sight doth blind ; 141 9 
But if that reason's beams again might shine into thy mind. 
If thou would'st view thy state with an indifferent eye, [cry. 
I think thou would'st condemn thy plaint, thy sighing, and thy 
With valiant hand thou mad'st thy foe yield up his breath. 
Thou hast escaped his sword and eke the laws that threaten 
By thy escape thy friends are fraughted full of joy, [death. 
And by his death thy deadly foes are laden with annoy. 
Wilt thou with trusty friends of pleasure take some part ? 
Or else to please thy hateful foes be partner of their smart ? 
Why cry'st thou out on love ? Why dost thou blame thy fate ? 
Why dost thou so cry after death ? Thy life why dost thou 

hate? 1430 

Dost thou repent the choice that thou so late didst choose ? 
Love is thy Lord ; thou ought'st obey and not thy prince 

accuse. 
For thou hast found, thou know'st, great favour in his sight. 
He granted thee, at thy request, thy only heart's delight. 
So that the gods envied the bliss thou lived'st in; 1435 

To give to such unthankful men is folly and a sin. 



54 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Methinks 1 hear thee say, the cruel banishment 
Is only cause of thy unrest ; only thou dost lament 
That from thy native land and friends thou must depart, 
Enforced to fly from her that hath the keeping of thy heart : 
And so oppressed with weight of smart that thou dost feel, 
Thou dost complain of Cupid's brand, and Fortune's turning 
Unto a valiant heart there is no banishment, [wheel. 

All countries are his native soil beneath the firmament. 
As to the fish the sea, as to the fowl the air, ^445 

So is like pleasant to the wise each place of his repair. 
Though froward Fortune chase thee hence into exile. 
With doubled honour shall she call thee home within a while. 
Admit thou should'st abide abroad a year or twain, [pain ? 
Should so short absence cause so long and eke so grievous 
Though thou ne may'st thy friends here in Verona see, 145 i 
They are not banished Mantua, Vv'here safely thou may'st be. 
Thither they may resort, though thou resort not hither. 
And there in surety may you talk of your affairs together. 
Yea, but this while, alas, thy Juliet must thou miss, 1455 
The only pillar of thy health, and anchor of thy bliss. 
Thy heart thou leav'st with her, when thou dost hence depart, 
And in thy breast inclosed bear'st her tender friendly heart. 
But if thou rue so much to leave the rest behind, H59 

With thought of passed joys content thy uncontented mind. 
So shall the moan decrease wherewith thy mind doth melt. 
Compared to the heavenly joys which thou hast often felt. 
He is too nice a weakling that shrinketh at a shower. 
And he unworthy of the sweet, that tasteth not the sour. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 55 

Call now again to mind thy first consuming flame, 1465 
How didst thou vainly burn in love of an unloving dame ? 
Hadst thou not wellnigh wept quite out thy swelling eyne ? 
Did not thy parts, fordone with pain, languish away and 
Those griefs and others like were haply overpast, [pine ? 
And thou in height of Fortune's wheel well placed at the last ! 
From whence thou art now fall'n, that, raised up again, 
With greater joy a greater while in pleasure may'st thou reign . 
Compare the present while with times y-past before, 1473 
And think that Fortune hath for thee great pleasure yet in 
The whilst, this little wrong receive thou patiently, [store. 
And what of force must needs be done, that do thou willingly. 
Folly it is to fear that thou canst not avoid, 
And madness to desire it much that cannot be enjoyed. 
To give to Fortune place, not aye deserveth blame. 
But skill it is, according to the times thyself to frame.' 1480 
Whilst to this skilful lore he lent his listening ears, [tears. 
His sighs are stopped and stopped are the conduits of his 
As blackest clouds are chased by winter's nimble wind. 
So have his reasons chased care out of his careful mind. 
As of a morning foul ensues an evening fair, 14^5 

So banished hope returneth home to banish his despair. 
Now is affection's veil removed from his eyes, [wise. 

He seeth the path that he must walk, and reason makes him 
For very shame the blood doth flash in both his cheeks, 
He thanks the father for his lore, and farther aid he seeks. 
He saith, that skill-less youth for counsel is unfit, 1491 

And anger oft with hastiness are joined to want of wit ; 



56 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

But sound advice abounds in heads with hoarish hairs, 
For wisdom is by practice won, and perfect made by years. 
But aye from this time forth his ready bending will 1495 
Shall be in awe and governed by Friar Laurence' skill. 
The governor is now right careful of his charge, 
To whom he doth wisely discourse of his affairs at large. 
He tells him how he shall depart the town unknown. 
Both mindful of his friend's safety, and careful of his own ; 
How he shall guide himself, how he shall seek to win 1 501 
The friendship of the better sort, how warely to creep in 
The favour of the Mantuan prince, and how he may 
Appease the wrath of Escalus, and wipe the fault away ; 
The choler of his foes by gentle means t' assuage, 1 505 

Or else by force and practices to bridle quite their rage : 
And last he chargeth him at his appointed hour 
To go with manly, merry cheer unto his lady's bower, 
And there with wholesome words to salve her sorrow's smart, 
And to revive, if need require, her faint and dying heart. 
The old man's words have filled with joy our Romeus' 

breast, 1511 

And eke the old wife's talk hath set our Juliet's heart at rest. 
Whereto may I compare, O lovers, this your day ? 
Like days the painful mariners are wonted to assay ; 
For, beat with tempest great, when they at length espy 1 5 1 5 
Some little beam of Phoebus' light, that pierceth through 

the sky. 
To clear the shadowed earth by clearness of his face, [race ; 
They hope that dreadless they shall run the remnant of their 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 57 

Yea, they assure themself, and quite behind their back 
They cast all doubt, and thank the gods for scaping of the 
wrack ; 1520 

But straight the boisterous winds with greater fury blow, 
And overboard the broken mast the stormy blasts do throw ; 
The heavens large are clad with clouds as dark as hell. 
And twice as high the striving waves begin to roar and swell ; 
With greater dangers dread the men are vexed more, 1525 
In greater peril of their life than they had been before. 

The golden sun was gone tOt lodge him in the west. 
The full moon eke in yonder south had sent most men to 
When restless Romeus and restless Juliet [rest. 

In wonted sort, by wonted mean, in Juliet's chamber met. 
And from the window's top down had he leaped scarce, 
When she with arms outstretched wide so hard did him 
embrace, 1532 

That wellnigh had the sprite, not forced by deadly force, 
Flown unto death, before the time abandoning the corse. 
Thus muet stood they both the eighth part of an hour. 
And both would speak, but neither had of speaking any power ; 
But on his breast her head doth joyless Juliet lay, 1537 

And on her slender neck his chin doth ruthful Romeus stay. 
Their scalding sighs ascend, and by their cheeks down fall 
Their trickling tears, as crystal clear, but bitterer far than 
Then he, to end the grief which both they lived in, [gall. 
Did kiss his love, and wisely thus his tale he did begin : 

' My Juliet, my love, my only hope and care. 
To you I purpose not as now with length of words declare 



58 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

The diverseness and eke the accidents so strange ^545 

Of frail unconstant Fortune, that delighteth still in change ; 
Who in a moment heaves her friends up to the height [straight. 
Of her swift-turning slippery wheel, then fleets her friendship 
O wondrous change, even with the twinkling of an eye 
Whom erst herself had rashly set in pleasant place so high, 
The same in great despite down headlong doth she throw, 
And while she treads and spurneth at the lofty state laid low, 
More sorrow doth she shape within an hour's space, 1553 
Than pleasure in an hundred years ; so geason is her grace. 
The proof whereof in me, alas, too plain appears, [feres. 
Whom tenderly my careful friends have fostered with my 
In prosperous high degree, maintained so by fate. 
That, as yourself did see, my foes envied my noble state. 
One thing there was I did above the rest desire, ^559 

To which as to the sovereign good by hope I would aspire. 
That by our marriage mean we might within a while. 
To work our perfect happiness, our parents reconcile : 
That safely so we might, not stopped by sturdy strife, [life. 
Unto the bounds that God hath set, guide forth our pleasant 
But now, alack, too soon my bliss is overblown, ^S^S 

And upside down my purpose and my enterprise are thrown. 
And driven from my friends, of strangers must I crave ; 
Oh, grant it God, from dangers dread that I may surety have. 
For lo, henceforth I must wander in lands unknown 1569 
(So hard I find the Prince's doom), exiled from mine own. 
Which thing I have thought good to set before your eyes, 
And to exhort you now to prove yourself a woman wise, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 59 

That patiently you bear my absent long abode, ^^ 

For what above by fatal dooms decreed is, that God ' 



And more than this to say, it seemed, he was bent, 1575 
But Juliet in deadly grief, with brackish tears besprent, 
Brake off his tale begun, and whilst his speech he stayed, 
These selfsame words, or like to these, with dreary cheer she 
'Why, Romeus, can it be thou hast so hard a heart ; [said : 
So far removed from ruth ; so far from thinking on my smart ; 
To leave me thus alone, thou cause of my distress. 
Besieged with so great a camp of mortal wretchedness, 1582 
That every hour now, and moment in a day, 
A thousand times Death brags, as he would reave my life 
Yet such is my mishap, O cruel destiny, [away ? 

That still I live, and wish for death, but yet can never die ; 
So that just cause I have to think, as seemeth me, 
That froward Fortune did of late with cruel Death agree 
To lengthen loathed life, to pleasure in my pain. 
And triumph in my harm, as in the greatest hoped gain. 
And thou, the instrument of Fortune's cruel will, 1591 

Without whose aid she can no way her tyrannous lust fulfil, 
Art not a whit ashamed, as far as I can see, 
To cast me off, when thou hast culled the better part of me. 
Whereby, alas, too soon, I, seely wretch, do prove, 1595 
That all the ancient sacred laws of friendship and of love 
Are quelled and quenched quite, since he, on whom alway 
My chief hope and my steady trust was wonted still to stay. 
For whom I am become unto myself a foe, [ship so. 

Disdaineth me, his steadfast friend, and scorns my friend- 



6o ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Nay, Romeus, nay, thou may'st of two things choose the 

one. 
Either to see thy castaway, as soon as thou art gone, 1602 
Headlong to throw herself down from the window's height, 
And so to break her slender neck with all the body's weight, 
Or suffer her to be companion of thy pain, 
Whereso thou go, Fortune thee guide, till thou return again. 
So wholly into thine transformed is my heart. 
That even as oft as I do think that thou and I shall part, 
So oft, methinks, my life withdraws itself away. 
Which I retain to no end else but to the end I may, 1 6 10 
In spite of all thy foes, thy present parts enjoy. 
And in distress to bear with thee the half of thine annoy. 
Wherefore, in humble sort, Romeus, I make request. 
If ever tender pity yet were lodged in gentle breast. 
Oh, let it now have place to rest within thy heart ; 161 5 
Receive me as thy servant, and the fellow of thy smart. 
Thy absence is my death, thy sight shall give me life ; 
But if perhaps thou stand in dread to lead me as a wife, 
Art thou all counsel-less ? Canst thou no shift devise ? 
What letteth but in other weed I may myself disguise ? 1 620 
What, shall I be the first ? Hath none done so ere this. 
To 'scape the bondage of their friends ? Thyself can answer, 

yes. 
Or dost thou stand in doubt that I thy wife ne can 
By service pleasure thee as much as may thy hired man ? 
Or is my loyalty of both accompted less? 1625 

Perhaps thou fear'st lest I for gain forsake thee in distress. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 6i 

What, hath my beauty now no power at all on you, 
Whose brightness, force, and praise, sometime up to the skies 

you blew ? 
My tears, my friendship and my pleasures done of old, 
Shall they be quite forgot indeed?' 

When Romeus did behold 1630 
The wildness of her look, her colour pale and dead, 
The worst of all that might betide to her, he 'gan to dread ; 
And once again he did in arms his Juliet take. 
And kissed her with a loving kiss, and thus to her he spake : 
* Ah, Juliet,' quoth he, * the mistress of my heart, 1 63 5 
For whom, even now, thy servant doth abide in deadly 
Even for the happy days which thou desir'st to see, [smart, 
And for the fervent friendship's sake that thou dost owe to 
At once these fancies vain out of thy mind root out, [me, 
Except, perhaps, unto thy blame, thou fondly go about 
To hasten forth my death, and to thine own to run, 1641 
Which Nature's law and wisdom's lore teach every wight to 
For, but thou change thy mind, I do foretell the end, [shun. 
Thou shalt undo thyself for aye, and me thy trusty friend. 
For why, thy absence known, thy father will be wroth. 
And in his rage so narrowly he will pursue us both, 1 646 
That we shall try in vain to 'scape away by flight, 
And vainly seek a lurking place to hide us from his sight. 
Then we, found out and caught, quite void of strong defence, 
Shall cruelly be punished for thy departure hence ; 1650 
I as a ravisher, thou as a careless child, 
I as a man who doth defile, thou as a maid defiled ; 



62 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Thinking to lead in ease a long contented life, [wife, 

Shall short our days by shameful death : but if, my loving 
Thou banish from thy mind two foes that counsel hath. 
That wont to hinder sound advice, rash hastiness and wrath ; 
If thou be bent t'obey the lore of reason's skill 1657 

And wisely by her princely power suppress rebelling will, 
If thou our safety seek, more than thine own delight, 
Since surety stands in parting, and thy pleasures grow of sight, 
Forbear the cause of joy, and suffer for a while, 166 1 

So shall I safely live abroad, and safe turn from exile, 
So shall no slander's blot thy spotless life distain. 
So shall thy kinsmen be unstirred, and I exempt from pain. 
And think thou not, that aye the cause of care shall last; 
These stormy broils shall overblow, much like a winter's 

^For Fortune changeth more than fickle fantasy ; [blast. 

In nothing Fortune constant is save in unconstancy. 
Her hasty running wheel is of a restless course, [worse, 

That turns the climbers headlong down, from better to the 
And those that are beneath she heaveth up again : 1671 

.. So we shall rise to pleasure's mount, out of the pit of pain. 
Ere four months overpass, such order will I take, [make. 
And by my letters and my friends such means I mind to 
That of my wand'ring race ended shall be the toil, 1675 
And I called home with honour great unto my native soil. 
But if I be condemned to wander still in thrall, 
I will return to you, mine own, befall what may befall. 
And then by strength of friends, and with a mighty hand, 
From Verone will I carry thee into a foreign land, 1680 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 63 

Not in man's weed disguised, or as one scarcely known, 
But as my wife and only fere, in garment of thine own. 
Wherefore repress at once the passions of thy heart, [smart. 
And where there is no cause of grief, cause hope to heal thy 
For of this one thing thou may'st well assured be, 1685 

That nothing else but only death shall sunder me from thee.' 

The reasons that he made did seem of so great weight. 
And had with her such force, that she to him 'gan answer 

* Dear sir, nought else wish I but to obey your will ; [straight : 
But sure whereso you go, your heart with me shall tarry still, 
As sign and certain pledge, till here I shall you see, 1 69 1 
Of all the power that over you yourself did grant to me ; 
And in his stead take mine, the gage of my good will. — 
One promise crave I at your hand, that grant me to fulfil ; 
Fail not to let me have, at Friar Laurence' hand, 1695 

The tidings of your health, and how your doubtful case shall 
And all the weary while that you shall spend abroad, [stand. 
Cause me from time to time to know the place of your abode.' 
His eyes did gush out tears, a sigh brake from his breast. 
When he did grant and with an oath did vow to keep the hest. 

Thus these two lovers pass away the weary night, 1 70 1 
In pain and plaint, not, as they wont, in pleasure and delight. 
But now, somewhat too soon, in farthest east arose 
Fair Lucifer, the golden star that lady Venus chose ; 
Whose course appointed is with speedy race to run, 1705 
A messenger of dawning day and of the rising sun. 
Then fresh Aurora with her pale and silver glade 
Did clear the skies, and from the earth had chased ugly shade. 



64 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

When thou ne lookest wide, ne closely dost thou wink, 
When Phoebus from our hemisphere in western wave doth sink, 
What colour then the heavens do show unto thine eyes, 
The same, or like, saw Romeus in farthest eastern skies. 
As yet he saw no day, ne could he call it night, 
With equal force decreasing dark fought with increasing light. 
Then Romeus in arms his lady 'gan to fold, 171 5 

With friendly kiss, and ruthfuUy she 'gan her knight behold. 
With solemn oath they both their sorrowful leave do take ; 
They swear no stormy troubles shall their steady friendship 
Then careful Romeus again to cell returns, [shake. 

And in her chamber secretly our joyless Juliet mourns. 
Now hugy clouds of care, of sorrow, and of dread, 172 1 
The clearness of their gladsome hearts hath wholly overspread. 
When golden-crested Phcebus boasteth him in sky. 
And under earth, to 'scape revenge, his deadly foe doth fly. 
Then hath these lovers' day an end, their night begun, 
For each of them to other is as to the world the sun, 1726 
The dawning they shall see, ne summer any more, [sore. 
But blackfaced night with winter rough, ah, beaten over 
The weary watch discharged did hie them home to sleep, 
The warders and the scouts were charged their place and course 
And Verone gates awide the porters had set open, [to keep. 
When Romeus had of his affairs with Friar Laurence spoken. 
Warely he walked forth, unknown of friend or foe, I733 
Clad like a merchant venturer, from top even to the toe. 
He spurred apace, and came, withouten stop or stay, 
To Mantua gates, where lighted down, he sent his man away 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 65 

With words of comfort to his old afflicted sire ; I737 

And straight, in mind to sojourn there, a lodging doth he hire, 
And with the nobler sort he doth himself acquaint. 
And of his open wrong received the duke doth hear his plaint. 
He practiseth by friends for pardon of exile; 17^1 

The whilst he seeketh every way his sorrows to beguile. 
But who forgets the coal that burneth in his breast ? 
Alas, his cares deny his heart the sweet desired rest ; 
No time finds he of mirth, he finds no place of joy, 1745 
But everything occasion gives of sorrow and annoy. 
For when in turning skies the heaven's lamps are light, 
And from the other hemisphere fair Phoebus chaseth night. 
When every man and beast hath rest from painful toil, 
Then in the breast of Romeus his passions 'gin to boil. 1750 
Then doth he wet with tears the couch whereon he lies, 
And then his sighs the chamber fill, and out aloud he cries 
Against the restless stars in rolling skies that range, 
Against the fatal sisters three, and Fortune full of change. ^ 
Each night a thousand times he calleth for the day, 1755 
He thinketh Titan's restless steeds of restiness do stay; 
Or that at length they have some baiting place found out. 
Or, guided ill, have lost their way and wandered far about. 
While thus in idle thoughts the weary time he spendeth. 
The night hath end, but not with night the plaint of night 
Is he accompanied ? Is he in place alone r [he endeth. 

In company he wails his harm, apart he maketh moan : 
For if his feres rejoice, what cause hath he to joy, [enjoy ? 
That wanteth still his chief delight, while they their loves 



6^ ROMEUS AND JULIET 

But if with heavy cheer they show their inward grief, 1765 
He waileth most his wretchedness that is of wretches chief. 
When he doth hear abroad the praise of ladies blown, [own. 
Within his thought he scorneth them, and doth prefer his 
When pleasant songs he hears, while others do rejoice. 
The melody of music doth stir up his mourning voice. 
But if in secret place he walk somewhere alone, 177 1 

The place itself and secretness redoubleth all his moan. 
Then speaks he to the beasts, to feathered fowls and trees. 
Unto the earth, the clouds, and to whatso beside he sees. 
To them he shew'th his smart, as though they reason had. 
Each thing may cause his heaviness, but nought may make 
And, weary of the day, again he calleth night, [him glad^ 
The sun he curseth, and the hour when first his eyes saw light. 
And as the night and day their course do interchange, 1779 
So doth our Romeus' nightly cares for cares of day exchange. 

In absence of her knight the lady no way could [would ; 
Keep truce between her griefs and her, though ne'er so fain she 
And though with greater pain she cloaked sorrow's smart. 
Yet did her paled face disclose the passions of her heart. 
Her sighing every hour, her weeping everywhere, 1785 

Her reckless heed of meat, of sleep, and wearing of her gear^ 
The careful mother marks ; then of her health afraid. 
Because the griefs increased still, thus to her child she said : 

* Dear daughter, if you should long languish in this sort, 
I stand in doubt that oversoon your sorrows will make short 
Your loving father's life and mine, that love you more [fore 
Than our own proper breath and life. Bridle henceforth there- 



ROMEUS AND JULIET e-] 

Your grief and pain, yourself on joy your thought to set, 
For time it is that now you should our Tybalt's death forget. 
Of whom since God hath claimed the life that was but lent, 
He is in bliss, ne is there cause why you should thus lament. 
You can not call him back with tears and shriekings shrill : 
It is a fault thus still to grudge at God's appointed will.' 
The seely soul had now no longer power to feign, 
No longer could she hide her harm, but answered thus again. 
With heavy broken sighs, with visage pale and dead : 1801 

* Madam, the last of Tybalt's tears a great while since I 
Whose spring hath been ere this so laded out by me, [shed ; 
That empty quite and moistureless I guess it now to be. 

So that my pained heart by conduits of the eyne [brine.' 
No more henceforth, as wont it was, shall gush forth dropping 
The woeful mother knew not what her daughter meant. 
And loth to vex her child by words, her peace she warely hent. 
But when from hour to hour, from morrow to the morrow, 
Still more and more she saw increased her daughter's wonted 
sorrow, 1 8 1 o 

All means she sought of her and household folk to know 
The certain root whereon her grief and bootless moan doth 
But lo, she hath in vain her time and labour lore, [grow. 
Wherefore without all measure is her heart tormented sore. 
And sith herself could not find out the cause of care. 
She thought it good to tell the sire how ill his child did fare. 
And when she saw her time, thus to her fere she said : 

* Sir, if you mark our daughter well, the countenance of 

the maid, 18 18 



68 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

And how she fareth since that Tybalt unto death, 
Before his time, forced by his foe, did yield his living breath, 
Her face shall seem so changed, her doings eke so strange, 
That you will greatly wonder at so great and sudden change. 
Not only she forbears her meat, her drink, and sleep. 
But now she tendeth nothing else but to lament and weep. 
No greater joy hath she, nothing contents her heart 
So much as in the chamber close to shut herself apart ; 
Where she doth so torment her poor afflicted mind, 1825 
That much in danger stands her life, except some help we find. 
But, out, alas, I see not how it may be found, [abound. 

Unless that first we might find whence her sorrows thus 
For though with busy care I have employed my wit, 1 83 1 
And used all the ways I knew to learn the truth of it. 
Neither extremity ne gentle means could boot ; 
She hideth close within her breast her secret sorrow's root. 
This was my first conceit, that all her ruth arose 1835 

Out of her cousin Tybalt's death, late slain of deadly foes ; 
But now my heart doth hold a new repugnant thought ; 
Some greater thing, not Tybalt's death, this change in her 
Herself assured me that many days ago [hath wrought. 

She shed the last of Tybalt's tears ; which word amazed me so 
That I then could not guess what thing else might her grieve ; 
But now at length I have bethought me ; and I do believe 
The only crop and root of all my daughter's pain 
Is grudging envy's faint disease : perhaps she doth disdain 
To see in wedlock yoke the most part of her feres, 1845 
Whilst only she unmarried doth lose so many years. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 69 

And more perchance she thinks you mind to keep her so ; 
Wherefore despairing doth she wear herself away with woe. 
Therefore, dear sir, in time take on your daughter ruth ; 
For why, a brickie thing is glass, and frail is frailless youth. 
Join her at once to some in link of marriage, 185 I 

That may be meet for our degree, and much about her age : 
So shall you banish care out of your daughter's breast. 
So we her parents, in our age, shall live in quiet rest.' 
Whereto 'gan easily her husband to agree, [he : 

And to the mother's skilful talk thus straightway answered 
*Oft have I thought, dear wife, of all these things ere this, 
But evermore my mind me gave, it should not be amiss 
By farther leisure had a husband to provide ; 
Scarce saw she yet full sixteen years : too young to be a bride ! 
But since her state doth stand on terms so perilous, 1861 
And that a maiden daughter is a treasure dangerous, 
With so great speed I will endeavour to procure 
A husband for our daughter young, her sickness faint to cure, 
That you shall rest content, so warely will I choose, 1865 
And she recover soon enough the time she seems to lose. 
The whilst seek you to learn, if she in any part 
Already hath, unware to us, fixed her friendly heart ; 
Lest we have more respect to honour and to wealth. 
Than to our daughter's quiet life, and to her happy health ; 
Whom I do hold as dear as th' apple of mine eye, 1871 

And rather wish in poor estate and daughterless to die. 
Than leave my goods and her y-thralled to such a one, [moan.* 
Whose churlish dealing, I once dead, should be her cause of 



70 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

This pleasant answer heard, the lady parts again, 1875 
And Capulet, the maiden's sire, within a day or twain, 
Conferreth with his friends for marriage of his daughter. 
And many gentlemen there were with busy care that sought 
Both for the maiden was well shaped, young, and fair, [her ; 
As also well brought up, and wise ; her father's only heir. 
Among the rest was one inflamed with her desire, 188 1 
Who County Paris cleped was ; an earl he had to sire. 
Of all the suitors him the father liketh best. 
And easily unto the earl he maketh his behest. 
Both of his own good will, and of his friendly aid, 1885 
To win his wife unto his will, and to persuade the maid. 
The wife did joy to hear the joyful husband say [day ; 

How happy hap, how meet a match, he had found out that 
Ne did she seek to hide her joys within her heart, 
But straight she hieth to Juliet ; to her she tells, apart, 
What happy talk, by mean of her, was past no rather 1891 
Between the wooing Paris and her careful, loving father. 
The person of the man, the features of his face, [grace. 

His youthful years, his fairness, and his port, and seemly 
With curious words she paints before her daughter's eyes, [skies. 
And then with store of virtue's praise she heaves him to the 
She vaunts his race, and gifts that Fortune did him give, 
Whereby, she saith, both she and hers in great delight shall 
When Juliet conceived her parents' whole intent, [live. 

Whereto both love and reason's right forbode her to assent. 
Within herself she thought, rather than be forsworn, 1901 
With horses wild her tender parts asunder should be torn. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 71 

Not now, with bashful brow, in wonted wise, she spake. 
But with unwonted boldness straight into these words she 

brake : 
* Madam, I marvel much that you so lavas are 
Of me your child, your jewel once, your only joy and care, 
As thus to yield me up at pleasure of another. 
Before you know if I do like or else mislike my lover. 
Do what you list, but yet of this assure you still. 
If you do as you say you will, I yield not there until. 19 10 
For had I choice of twain, far rather would I choose 
My part of all your goods and eke my breath and life to lose? 
Than grant that he possess of me the smallest part ; 
First, weary of my painful life, my cares shall kill my heart, 
Else will I pierce my breast with sharp and bloody knife ; 
And you, my mother, shall become the murd'ress of my life, 
In giving me to him whom I ne can, ne may, 191 7 

Ne ought, to love : wherefore on knees, dear mother, I you 
To let me live henceforth, as I have lived tofore ; [pr^^yj 
Cease all your troubles for my sake, and care for me no more ; 
But suffer Fortune fierce to work on me her will, 192 1 

In her it lieth to do me boot, in her it lieth to spill. 
For whilst you for the best desire to place me so. 
You haste away my ling'ring death, and double all my woe. 

So deep this answer made the sorrows down to sink 
Into the mother's breast, that she ne knoweth what to think 
Of these her daughter's words, but all appalled she stands, 
And up unto the heavens she throws her wond'ring head 

and hands. 1928 



72 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

And, nigh beside herself, her husband hath she sought ; 
She tells him all ; she doth forget ne yet she hideth aught. 
The testy old man, wroth, disdainful without measure. 
Sends forth his folk in haste for her, and bids them take no 
Ne on her tears or plaint at all to have remorse, [leisure : 

But, if they cannot with her will, to bring the maid perforce. 
The message heard, they part, to fetch that they must fet. 
And willingly with them walks forth obedient Juliet. 1936 
Arrived in the place, when she her father saw. 
Of whom, as much as duty would, the daughter stood in awe. 
The servants sent away, (the mother thought it meet,) 
The woeful daughter all bewept fell grovelling at his feet. 
Which she doth wash with tears as she thus grovelling lies — 
So fast, and eke so plenteously distil they from her eyes : 
When she to call for grace her mouth doth think to open, 
Muct she is — for sighs and sobs her fearful talk have broken. 

The sire, whose swelling wrath her tears could not assuage. 
With fiery eyne, and scarlet cheeks, thus spake her in his rage, 
Whilst ruthfully stood by the maiden's mother mild : 1947 

* Listen,' quoth he,* unthankful and thou disobedient child. 
Hast thou so soon let slip out of thy mind the word 
That thou so oftentimes hast heard rehearsed at my board ? 
How much the Roman youth of parents stood in awe, 
And eke what power upon their seed the fathers had by 
Whom they not only might pledge, alienate, and sell, [law ? 
Whenso they stood in need, but more, if children did rebel, 
The parents had the power of life and sudden death. 1955 
What if those goodmen should again receive the living breath. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 73 

In how strait bonds would they thy stubborn body bind ? 
What weapons would they seek for thee ? what torments 

would they find ? 
To chasten, if they saw, the lewdness of thy life. 
Thy great unthankfulness to me, and shameful sturdy strife ? 
Such care thy mother had, so dear thou wert to me, 1961 
That I with long and earnest suit provided have for thee 
One of the greatest lords that wones about this town. 
And for his many virtues* sake a man of great renown. 
Of whom both thou and I unworthy are too much, 1965 
So rich ere long he shall be left, his father's wealth is such. 
Such is the nobleness and honour of the race [case 

From whence his father came : and yet, thou playest in this 
The dainty fool, and stubborn girl ; for want of skill 1969 
Thou dost refuse thy offered weal, and disobey my will. 
Even by His strength I swear, that first did give me life. 
And gave me in my youth the strength to get thee on my 
Unless by Wednesday next thou bend as I am bent, [wife, 
And at our castle called Freetown thou freely do assent 
To County Paris* suit, and promise to agree 1975 

To whatsoever then shall pass 'twixt him, my wife, and me, 
Not only will I give all that I have away 
From thee, to those that shall me love, me honour, and obey, 
But also to so close and to so hard a gaol 
I shall thee wed, for all thy life, that sure thou shalt not fail 
A thousand times a day to wish for sudden death, 1981 

And curse the day and hour when first thy lungs did give 

thee breath. 



74 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Advise thee well, and say that thou art warned now, 
And think not that I speak in sport, or mind to break my vow. 
For were it not that I to County Paris gave 1985 

My faith, which I must keep unfalsed, my honour so to save, 
Ere thou go hence, myself would see thee chastened so, [know ; 
That thou should'st once for all be taught thy duty how to 
And what revenge of old the angry sires did find [kind/ 
Against their children that rebelled and showed themself un- 

These said, the old man straight is gone in haste away, 
Ne for his daughter's answer would the testy father stay. 
And after him his wife doth follow out of door, [floor : 

And there they leave their chidden child kneeling upon the 
Then she that oft had seen the fury of her sire, ^995 

Dreading what might come of his rage, nould farther stir his 
Unto her chamber she withdrew herself apart, [ire. 

Where she was wonted to unload the sorrows of her heart. 
There did she not so much busy her eyes in sleeping. 
As overpressed with restless thoughts in piteous bootless weep- 
The fast falling of tears make not her tears decrease, [ing, 
Ne, by the pouring forth of plaint, the cause of plaint doth 
So that to th'end the moan and sorrow may decay, [cease. 
The best is that she seek some mean to take the cause away. 
Her weary bed betime the woeful wight forsakes, 2005 

And to Saint Francis' church to mass her way devoutly takes. 
The friar forth is called ; she prays him hear her shrift ; 
Devotion is in so young years a rare and precious gift. 
When on her tender knees the dainty lady kneels, 
In mind to pour forth all the grief that inwardly she feels, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 75 

With sighs and salted tears her shriving doth begin, 201 1 
For she of heaped sorrows hath to speak, and^not of sin. 
Her voice with piteous plaint was made already hoarse. 
And hasty sobs, when she would speak, brake off her words per- 
But as she may, piece-meal, she poureth in his lap [force. 
The marriage news, a mischief new, prepared by mishap. 
Her parents' promise erst to County Paris past. 
Her father's threats she telleth him, and thus concludes at last : 
* Once was I wedded well, ne will I wed again ; 
For since I know I may not be the wedded wife of twain. 
For I am bound to have one God, one faith, one make, 202 1 
My purpose is as soon as I shall hence my journey take. 
With these two hands, which joined unto the heavens I stretch, 
The hasty death which I desire, unto myself to reach. 
This day, O Romeus, this day thy woeful wife 2025 

Will bring the end of all her cares by ending careful life. 
So my departed sprite shall witness to the sky. 
And eke my blood unto the earth bear record, how that I 
Have kept my faith unbroke, steadfast unto my friend.' 

When this her heavy tale was told, her vow eke at an end, 
Her gazing here and there, her fierce and staring look. 
Did witness that some lewd attempt her heart had undertook. 
Whereat the friar astound, and ghastfully afraid 2033 

Lest she by deed perform her word, thus much to her he said : 

* Ah, Lady Juliet, what need the words you spake ? 
I pray you, grant me one request, for blessed Mary's sake. 
Measure somewhat your grief, hold here awhile your peace ; 
Whilst 1 bethink me of your case, your plaint and sorrows cease. 



76 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Such comfort will I give you, ere you part from hence. 
And for th' assaults of Fortune's ire prepare so sure defence, 
So wholesome salve will I for your afflictions find, 2041 
That you shall hence depart again with well contented mind/ 

His words have chased straight out of her heart despair. 
Her black and ugly dreadful thoughts by hope are waxen fair. 
So Friar Laurence now hath left her there alone, 2045 

And he out of the church in haste is to his chamber gone ; 
Where sundry thoughts within his careful head arise ; 
The old man's foresight divers doubts hath set before his eyes. 
His conscience one while condemns it for a sin 
To let her take Paris to spouse, since he himself had bin 
The chiefest cause, that she unknown to father or mother. 
Not five months past, in that self place was wedded to another. 
Another while an hugy heap of dangers dread 
His restless thought hath heaped up within his troubled head. 
Even of itself th' attempt he judgeth perilous ; 2055 

The execution eke he deems so much more dangerous, 
That to a woman's grace he must himself commit. 
That young is, simple and unware, for weighty affairs unfit ; 
For if she fail in aught, the matter published, 
Both she and Romeus were undone, himself eke punished. 
When to and fro in mind he divers thoughts had cast, 2061 
With tender pity and with ruth his heart was won at last ; 
He thought he rather would in hazard set his fame. 
Than suffer such adultery. Resolving on the same. 
Out of his closet straight he took a little glass, 2065 

And then with double haste returned where woeful Juliet was ; 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 77 

Whom he hath found well-nigh in trance, scarce drawing 
Attending still to hear the news of life or else of death, [breath, 
Of whom he did enquire of the appointed day : 

* On Wednesday next,' quod Juliet, * so doth my father say, 
I must give my consent ; but, as I do remember, 2071 
The solemn day of marriage is the tenth day of September.' 

* Dear daughter,' quoth the friar, * of good cheer see thou be. 
For lo. Saint Francis of his grace hath showed a way to me. 
By which I may both thee and Romeus together 2075 
Out of the bondage which you fear assuredly deliver. 
Even from the holy font thy husband have I known, 

And, since he grew in years, have kept his counsels as mine 
For from his youth he would unfold to me his heart, [own. 
And often have I cured him of anguish and of smart; 2080 
I know that by desert his friendship I have won, 
And I him hold as dear as if he were my proper son. 
Wherefore my friendly heart cannot abide that he 
Should wrongfully in aught be harmed, if that it lay in me 
To right or to revenge the wrong by my advice, 2085 

Or timely to prevent the same in any other wise. 
And sith thou art his wife, thee am I bound to love, 
For Romeus' friendship's sake, and seek thy anguish to remove. 
And dreadful torments, which thy heart besiegen round ; 
Wherefore, my daughter, give good ear unto my counsels sound. 
Forget not what 1 say, ne tell it any wight, 2091 

Not to the nurse thou trustest so, as Romeus is thy knight ; 
For on this thread doth hang thy death and eke thy life. 
My fame or shame, his weal or woe that chose thee to his wife. 



78 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Thou art not ignorant — because of such renown 2095 

As everywhere is spread of me, but chiefly in this town — 

That in my youthful days abroad I travelled, 

Through every land found out by men, by men inhabited ; 

So twenty years from home, in lands unknown a guest, 

I never gave my weary limbs long time of quiet rest, 2100 

But in the desert woods, to beasts of cruel kind, 

Or on the seas to drenching waves, at pleasure of the wind, 

I have committed them, to ruth of rover's hand. 

And to a thousand dangers more, by water and by land. 

But not in vain, my child, hath all my wand'ring bin ; 

Beside the great contentedness my sprite abideth in, 2106 

That by the pleasant thought of passed things doth grow. 

One private fruit more have I plucked, which thou shalt 

shortly know : 
What force the stones, the plants, and metals have to work, 
And divers other things that in the bowels of earth do lurk. 
With care I have sought out, with pain I did them prove ; 
With them eke can I help myself at times of my behove, — 
Although the science be against the laws of men, — 
When sudden danger forceth me ; but yet most chiefly when 
The work to do is least displeasing unto God, 21 15 

Not helping to do any sin that wreakful Jove forbode. 
For since in life no hope of long abode I have, 
But now am come unto the brink of my appointed grave. 
And that my death draws near, whose stripe I may not 

shun, 2 1 19 

But shall be called to make account of all that I have done. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 79 

Now ought I from henceforth more deeply print in mind 
The judgment of the Lord, than when youth's folly made me 
When love and fond desire were boiling in my breast, [blind, 
Whence hope and dread by striving thoughts had banished 

friendly rest. 2 124. 

Know therefore, daughter, that with other gifts which I 
Have well attained to, by grace and favour of the sky. 
Long since I did find out, and yet the way I know 
Of certain roots and savoury herbs to make a kind of dough 
Which baked hard, and beat into a powder fine, 
And drunk with conduit water, or with any kind of wine, 
It doth in half an hour astonne the taker so, 2 131 

And mast'reth all his senses, that he feeleth weal nor woe : 
And so it burieth up the sprite and living breath, 
That even the skilful leech would say, that he is slain by 

death. 
One virtue more it hath, as marvellous as this; 2135 

The taker, by receiving it, at all not grieved is ; 
But painless as a man that thinketh nought at all. 
Into a sweet and quiet sleep immediately doth fall ; 
From which, according to the quantity he taketh. 
Longer or shorter is the time before the sleeper waketh ; 
And thence, th' effect once wrought, again it doth restore 
Him that received unto the state wherein he was before. 
Wherefore, mark well the end of this my tale begun, 2143 
And thereby learn what is by thee hereafter to be done. 
Cast off from thee at once the weed of womanish dread. 
With manly courage arm thyself from heel unto the head ; 



8o ROMEUS AND JULIET 

For only on the fear or boldness of thy breast 
The happy hap or ill mishap of thy affair doth rest. 
Receive this vial small and keep it as thine eye; 2H9 

And on thy marriage day, before the sun do clear the sky, 
Fill it with water full up to the very brim, [and limb 

Then drink it off, and thou shalt feel throughout each vein 
A pleasant slumber slide, and quite dispread at length 
On all thy parts, from every part reave all thy kindly strength ; 
Withouten moving thus thy idle parts shall rest, 2155 

No pulse shall go, ne heart once beat within thy hollow breast. 
But thou shalt lie as she that dieth in a trance : [chance ; 
Thy kinsmen and thy trusty friends shall wail the sudden 
Thy corpse then will they bring to grave in this churchyard. 
Where thy forefathers long ago a costly tomb prepared. 
Both for themself and eke for those that should come after. 
Both deep it is, and long and large, where thou shalt rest, my 
Till I to Mantua send for Romeus, thy knight ; [daughter. 
Out of the tomb both he and I will take thee forth that night. 
And when out of thy sleep thou shalt awake again, 2165 
Then may'st thou go with him from hence ; and, healed of thy 
In Mantua lead with him unknown a pleasant life ; [pain. 
And yet perhaps in time to come, when cease shall all the strife. 
And that the peace is made 'twixt Romeus and his foes, 
Myself may find so fit a time these secrets to disclose, 2 1 70 
Both to my praise, and to thy tender parents' joy, 
That dangerless, without reproach, thou shalt thy love enjoy.*' 

When of his skilful tale the friar had made an end, 
To which our Juliet so well her ear and wits did bend, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 8i 

That she hath heard it all and hath forgotten nought, 2175 
Her fainting heart was comforted with hope and pleasant 
And then to him she said : *■ Doubt no't but that I will [thought, 
With stout and unappalled heart your happy hest fulfil. 
Yea, if I wist it were a venomous deadly drink, [should sink, 
Rather would I that through my throat the certain bane 
Than I, not drinking it, into his hands should fall, 218 1 
That hath no part of me as yet, ne ought to have at all. 
Much more I ought with bold and with a willing heart 
To greatest danger yield myself, and to the deadly smart. 
To come to him on whom my life doth wholly stay, 2185 
That is my only heart's delight, and so he shall be aye.' 
* Then go,' quoth he, * my child, I pray that God on high 
Direct thy foot, and by thy hand upon the way thee guie. 
God grant he so confirm in thee thy present will, 
That no inconstant toy thee let thy promise to fulfil.' 2190 

A thousand thanks and more our Juliet gave the friar. 
And homeward to her father's house joyful she doth retire ; 
And as with stately gait she passed through the street. 
She saw her mother in the door, that with her there would 
In mind to ask if she her purpose yet did hold, [meet, 

In mind also, apart 'twixt them, her duty to have told ; 
Wherefore with pleasant face, and with unwonted cheer, 
As soon as she was unto her approached somewhat near. 
Before the mother spake, thus did she first begin : 2199 

* Madam, at Saint Francis' church have I this morning bin. 
Where I did make abode a longer while, percase. 
Than duty would ; yet have I not been absent from this place 

G 



82 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

So long a while, without a great and just cause why ; 

This fruit have I received there — my heart, erst like to die, 

Is now revived again, and my afflicted breast, 2205 

Released from affliction, restored is to rest ! 

For lo, my troubled ghost, alas, too sore dis-eased. 

By ghostly counsel and advice hath Friar Laurence eased ; 

To whom I did at large discourse my former life. 

And in confession did I tell of all our passed strife ; 2210 

Of County Paris' suit, and how my lord, my sire. 

By my ungrate and stubborn strife I stirred unto ire ; 

But lo, the holy friar hath by his ghostly lore 

Made me another woman now than I had been before. 

By strength of arguments he charged so my mind, [could find. 

That, though I sought, no sure defence my searching thought 

So forced I was at length to yield up witless will. 

And promised to be ordered by the friar's praised skill. 

Wherefore, albeit I had rashly, long before, 

The bed and rites of marriage for many years forswore. 

Yet mother, now behold your daughter at your will, 2221 

Ready, if you command her aught, your pleasure to fulfil. 

Wherefore in humble wise, dear madam, I you pray. 

To go unto my lord and sire, withouten long delay ; 

Of him first pardon crave of faults already past, 2225 

And show him, if it pleaseth you, his child is now at last 

Obedient to his just and to his skilful hest, [prest 

And that I will, God lending life, on Wednesday next be 

To wait on him and you, unto th' appointed place. 

Where I will, in your hearing, and before my father's face, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 83 

Unto the County give my faith and whole assent, 2231 

And take him for my lord and spouse ; thus fully am I bent ; 
And that out of your mind I may remove all doubt, 
Unto my closet fare I now, to search and to choose out 
The bravest garments and the richest jewels there, [wear ; 
Which, better him to please, I mind on Wednesday next to 
For if I did excel the famous Grecian rape. 
Yet might attire help to amend my beauty and my shape/ 

The simple mother was rapt into great delight; 2239 
Not half a word could she bring forth, but in this joyful plight 
With nimble foot she ran, and with unwonted pace. 
Unto her pensive husband, and to him with pleasant face 
She told what she had heard, and praiseth much the friar ; 
And joyful tears ran down the cheeks of this gray-bearded sire. 
With hands and eyes heaved up he thanks God in his heart, 
And then he saith : * This is not, wife, the friar's first desert ; 
Oft hath he showed to us great friendship heretofore, 2247 
By helping us at needful times with wisdom's precious lore. 
In all our commonweal scarce one is to be found 
But is, for some good turn, unto this holy father bound. 
Oh that the third part of my goods — I do not feign — 2251 
But twenty of his passed years might purchase him again ! 
So much in recompense of friendship would I give, 
So much, in faith, his extreme age my friendly heart doth 
grieve.' 

These said, the glad old man from home go'th straight 
abroad, 2255 

And to the stately palace hieth where Paris made abode ; 



84 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Whom he desires to be on Wednesday next his geast, 
At Freetown, where he minds to make for him a costly feast. 
But lo, the earl saith, such feasting were but lost, 
And counsels him till marriage-time to spare so great a cost. 
For then he knoweth well the charges will be great ; 2261 
The whilst, his heart desireth still her sight, and not his meat. 
He craves of Capulet that he may straight go see 
Fair Juliet ; whereto he doth right willingly agree. 
The mother, warned before, her daughter doth prepare ; 
She warneth and she chargeth her that in no wise she spare 
Her courteous speech, her pleasant looks, and comely grace. 
But liberally to give them forth when Paris comes in place : 
Which she as cunningly could set forth to the show. 
As cunning craftsmen to the sale do set their wares on row ; 
That ere the County did out of her sight depart, 2271 

So secretly unwares to him she stale away his heart. 
That of his life and death the wily wench had power. 
And now his longing heart thinks long for their appointed 
And with importune suit the parents doth he pray [hour. 
The wedlock knot to knit soon up, and haste the marriage day. 

The wooer hath passed forth the first day in this sort. 
And many other more than this, in pleasure and disport. 
At length the wished time of long hoped delight, [plight. 
As Paris thought, drew near; but near approached heavy 
Against the bridal day the parents did prepare 2281 

Such rich attire, such furniture, such store of dainty fare. 
That they which did behold the same the night before 
Did think and say, a man could scarcely wish for any more. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 85 

Nothing did seem too dear ; the dearest things were bought ; 
And, as the written story saith, indeed there wanted nought 
That 'longed to his degree, and honour of his stock; 2287 
But Juliet, the whilst, her thoughts within her breast did lock ; 
Even from the trusty nurse, whose secretness was tried. 
The secret counsel of her heart the nurse-child seeks to hide. 
For sith, to mock her Dame, she did not stick to lie, 2291 
She thought no sin with show of truth to blear her nurse's 
In chamber secretly the tale she 'gan renew, [^y^* 

That at the door she told her dame, as though it had been 
The flatt'ring nurse did praise the friar for his skill, [true. 
And said that she had done right well by wit to order will. 
She setteth forth at large the father's furious rage, 2297 

And eke she praiseth much to her the second marriage ; 
And County Paris now she praiseth ten times more, [before. 
By wrong, than she herself, by right, had Romeus praised 
Paris shall dwell there still, Romeus shall not return ; 2301 
What shall it boot her life to languish still and mourn ? 
The pleasures past before she must account as gain ; 
But if he do return, what then ? — for one she shall have twain. 
The one shall use her as his lawful wedded wife, 2305 

In wanton love with equal joy the other lead his life ; 
And best shall she be sped of any townish dame. 
Of husband and of paramour to find her change of game. 
These words and like the nurse did speak, in hope to please, 
But greatly did these wicked words the lady's mind dis-ease ; 
But aye she hid her wrath, and seemed well content, 23 1 1 
When daily did the naughty nurse new arguments invent. 



86 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

But when the bride perceived her hour approached near, 
She sought, the best she could, to feign, and tempered so her 
That by her outward look no living wight could guess [cheer, 
Her inward woe ; and yet anew renewed is her distress. 
Unto her chamber doth the pensive wight repair, [stair. 
And in her hand a percher light the nurse bears up the 
In Juliet's chamber was her wonted use to lie ; [descry, 

Wherefore her mistress, dreading that she should her work 
As soon as she began her pallet to unfold, 2321 

Thinking to lie that night where she was wont to lie of old, 
Doth gently pray her seek her lodging somewhere else ; 
And, lest she, crafty, should suspect, a ready reason tells. 
* Dear friend,' quoth she, * you know to-morrow is the day 
Of new contract ; wherefore, this night, my purpose is to pray 
Unto the heavenly minds that dwell above the skies. 
And order all the course of things as they can best devise, 
That they so smile upon the doings of to-morrow. 
That all the remnant of my life may be exempt from sorrow : 
Wherefore, I pray you, leave me here alone this night, 2331 
But see that you to-morrow come before the dawning light, 
For you must curl my hair, and set on my attire.' 
And easily the loving nurse did yield to her desire. 
For she within her head did cast before no doubt ; 2335 
She little knew the close attempt her nurse-child went about. 

The nurse departed once, the chamber door shut close, 
Assured that no living wight her doing might disclose. 
She poured forth into the vial of the friar 
Water, out of a silver ewer that on the board stood by her. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 87 

The sleepy mixture made, fair Juliet doth it hide 2341 

Under her bolster soft, and so unto her bed she hied : 
Where divers novel thoughts arise within her head, 
And she is so environed about with deadly dread, 
That what before she had resolved undoubtedly 2345 

That same she calleth into doubt ; and lying doubtfully, 
Whilst honest love did strive with dread of deadly pain, 
With hands y- wrung, and weeping eyes, thus gan she to com- 

* What, is there any one, beneath the heavens high, [plain : — 
So much unfortunate as I ? so much past hope as I ? 2350 
What, am I not myself, of all that yet were born, [scorn ? 
The deepest drenched in despair, and most in Fortune's 
For lo, the world for me hath nothing else to find. 
Beside mishap and wretchedness and anguish of the mind ; 
Since that the cruel cause of my unhappiness [distress, 
Hath put me to this sudden plunge, and brought to such 
As, to the end I may my name and conscience save, 2357 
I must devour the mixed drink that by me here I have. 
Whose working and whose force as yet I do not know.' 
And of this piteous plaint began another doubt to grow : 

< What do I know,' quoth she, * if that this powder shall 
Sooner or later than it should, or else, not work at all ? 2362 
And then my craft descried as open as the day. 
The people's tale and laughing-stock shall I remain for aye,' 

* And what know I,' quoth she, * if serpents odious. 

And other beasts and worms that are of nature venomous, 
That wonted are to lurk in dark caves underground, [found. 
And commonly, as I have heard, in dead men's tombs are 



88 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Shall harm me, yea or nay, where I shall lie as dead ? — 
Or how shall I that alway have in so fresh air been bred, 
Endure the lothsome stink of such an heaped store 237 1 
Of carcases not yet consumed, and bones that long before 
Intombed were, where I my sleeping-place shall have. 
Where all my ancestors do rest, my kindred's common grave ? 
Shall not the friar and my Romeus, when they come. 
Find me, if I awake before, y-stifled in the tomb ? ' 2376 
And whilst she in these thoughts doth dwell somewhat too 
The force of her imagining anon did wax so strong, [long, 
That she surmised she saw, out of the hollow vault, 
A grisly thing to look upon, the carcase of Tybalt ; 2380 
Right in the selfsame sort that she few days before [sore. 
Had seen him in his blood embrued, to death eke wounded 
And then when she again within herself had weighed 
That quick she should be buried there, and by his side be laid, 
All comfortless, for she shall living fere have none, 2385 
But many a rotten carcase, and full many a naked bone ; 
Her dainty tender parts 'gan shiver all for dread. 
Her golden hairs did stand upright upon her chillish head. 
Then pressed with the fear that she there lived in, [skin, 

A sweat as cold as mountain ice pierced through her slender 
That with the moisture hath wet every part of hers: 2391 
And more besides, she vainly thinks, whilst vainly thus she 
A thousand bodies dead have compassed her about, [fears. 
And lest they will dismember her she greatly stands in doubt. 
But when she felt her strength began to wear away, 2395 
By little and little, and in her heart her fear increased aye, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 89 

Dreading that weakness might, or foolish cowardice, 

Hinder the execution of the purposed enterprise, 

As she had frantic been, in haste the glass she caught, 

And up she drank the mixture quite, withouten farther 

thought. 
Then on her breast she crossed her arms long and small, 
And so, her senses failing her, into a trance did fall. 2402 
And when that Phcebus bright heaved up his seemly head, 
And from the East in open skies his glist'ring rays dispread. 
The nurse unshut the door, for she the key did keep, 
And doubting she had slept too long, she thought to break her 

sleep ; 
First softly did she call, then louder thus did cry : 
* Lady, you sleep too long ; the earl will raise you by and by.' 
But, well away, in vain unto the deaf she calls. 
She thinks to speak to Juliet, but speaketh to the walls. 
If all the dreadful noise that might on earth be found, 24 1 1 
Or on the roaring seas, or if the dreadful thunder's sound 
Had blown into her ears, I think they could not make 
The sleeping wight before the time by any means awake ; 
So were the sprites of life shut up, and senses thralled ; 
Wherewith the seely careful nurse was wondrously appalled. 
She thought to daw her now as she had done of old, [cold ; 
But lo, she found her parts were stiff and more than marble 
Neither at mouth nor nose found she recourse of breath ; 
Two certain arguments were these of her untimely death. 
Wherefore, as one distraught, she to her mother ran, [can, 
With scratched face, and hair betorn, but no word speak she 



90 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

At last, with much ado, * Dead,' quoth she, * is my child ! ' 
* Now, out, alas ! ' the mother cried, and as a tiger wild, 2424. 
Whose whelps, whilst she is gone out of her den to prey. 
The hunter greedy of his game doth kill or carry away ; 
So raging forth she ran unto her Juliet's bed. 
And there she found her darling and her only comfort dead. 
Then shrieked she out as loud as serve her would her breath. 
And then, that pity was to hear, thus cried she out on Death : 
*Ah cruel Death,' quoth she, * that thus against all right. 
Hast ended my felicity, and robbed my heart's delight. 
Do now thy worst to me, once wreak thy wrath for all, 
Even in despite I cry to thee, thy vengeance let thou fall. 
Whereto stay I, alas, since Juliet is gone ? 2435 

Whereto live I, since she is dead, except to wail and moan ? 
Alack, dear child, my tears for thee shall never cease ; 
Even as my days of life increase, so shall my plaint increase : 
Such store of sorrow shall afflict my tender heart. 
That deadly pangs, when they assail shall not augment my 

smart.' 
Then 'gan she so to sob, it seemed her heart would brast ; 
And while she crieth thus, behold, the father at the last. 
The County Paris, and of gentlemen a rout. 
And ladies of Verona town and country round about. 
Both kindreds and allies thither apace have preast, 2445 
For by their presence there they sought to honour so the feast ; 
But when the heavy news the bidden guests did hear. 
So much they mourned, that who had seen their count'nance 
and their cheer, 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 91 

Might easily have judged by that that they had seen, 
That day the day of wrath and eke of pity to have been. 
But more than all the rest the father's heart was so 2451 
Smit with the heavy news, and so shut up with sudden woe. 
That he ne had the power his daughter to be-weep, [keep. 
Ne yet to speak, but long is forced his tears and plaint to 
In all the haste he hath for skilful leeches sent ; 2455 

And, hearing of her passed life, they judge with one assent 
The cause of this her death was inward care and thought ; 
And then with double force again the doubled sorrows 
If ever there hath been a lamentable day, [wrought. 

A day ruthful, unfortunate and fatal, then I say, 2460 

The same was it in which through Verone town was spread 
The woeful news how Juliet was sterved in her bed. 
For so she was bemoaned both of the young and old. 
That it might seem to him that would the common plaint 
That all the commonwealth did stand in jeopardy ; [behold. 
So universal was the plaint, so piteous was the cry. 2466 
For lo, beside her shape and native beauty's hue, 
With which, like as she grew in age, her virtues' praises 
She was also so wise, so lowly, and so mild, [grew. 

That even from the hoary head unto the witless child, 2470 
She wan the hearts of all, so that there was not one, 
Ne great, ne small, but did that day her wretched state bemoan. 

Whilst Juliet slept, and whilst the other weepen thus. 
Our Friar Laurence hath by this sent one to Romeus, 
A friar of his house, — there never was a better, 2475 

He trusted him even as himself, — to whom he gave a letter, 



92 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

In which he written had of everything at length, [strength ; 

That passed 'twixt Juliet and him, and of the powder's 

The next night after that, he willeth him to come 

To help to take his Juliet out of the hollow tomb, 2480 

For by that time the drink, he saith, will cease to work, 

And for one night his wife and he within his cell shall lurk ; 

Then shall he carry her to Mantua away, — 

Till fickle Fortune favour him, — disguised in man's array. 

This letter closed he sends to Romeus by his brother ; 
He chargeth him that in no case he give it any other. 2486 
Apace our Friar John to Mantua him hies ; 
And, for because in Italy it is a wonted guise 
That friars in the town should seldom walk alone. 
But of their convent aye should be accompanied with one 
Of his profession, straight a house he findeth out, 2491 

In mind to take some friar with him, to walk the town about. 
But entered once he might not issue out again. 
For that a brother of the house, a day before or twain, [hate — 
Died of the plague — a sickness which they greatly fear and 
So were the brethren charged to keep within their convent 
Barred of their fellowship that in the town do wone ; [gate, 
The townfolk eke commanded are the friar's house to shun, 
Till they that had the care of health their freedom should 

renew ; 
Whereof, as you shall shortly hear, a mischief great there 

grew. 2500 

The friar by this restraint, beset with dread and sorrow. 
Not knowing what the letters held, deferred until the morrow; 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 93 

And then he thought in time to send to Romeus. [thus, 
But whilst at Mantua where he was, these doings framed 
The town of Juliet's birth was wholly busied 2505 

About her obsequies, to see their darling buried. 
Now is the parents' mirth quite changed into moan, 
And now to sorrow is returned the joy of every one ; [change. 
And now the wedding v/eeds for mourning weeds they 
And Hymene into a dirge ; — alas ! it seemeth strange : 2510 
Instead of marriage gloves, now funeral gloves they have. 
And whom they should see married, they follow to the grave. 
The feast that should have been of pleasure and of joy. 
Hath every dish and cup filled full of sorrow and annoy. 

Now throughout Italy this common use they have, 2515 
That all the best of every stock are earthed in one grave : 
For every household, if it be of any fame, [name ; 

Doth build a tomb, or dig a vault, that bears the household's 
Wherein, if any of that kindred hap to die. 
They are bestowed ; else in the same no other corpse may lie. 
The Capulets her corpse in such a one did lay, 2521 

Where Tybalt, slain of Romeus, was laid the other day.' 
Another use there is, that whosoever dies. 
Borne to their church with open face upon the bier he lies, 
In wonted weed attired, not wrapped in winding sheet. 
So, as by chance he walked abroad, our Romeus' man did meet 
His master's wife ; the sight with sorrow straight did wound 
His honest heart ; with tears he saw her lodged underground. 
And, for he had been sent to Verone for a spy. 
The doings of the Capulets by wisdom to descry, 2530 



94 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

And for he knew her death did touch his master most, 
Alas, too soon, with heavy news he hied away in post ; 
And in his house he found his master Romeus, 
Where he, besprent with many tears, began to speak him thus : 

* Sire, unto you of late is chanced so great a harm, 2535 
That sure, except with constancy you seek yourself to arm, 
I fear that straight you will breathe out your latter breath. 
And I, most wretched wight, shall be th'occasion of your death. 
Know, sir, that yesterday, my lady and your wife, 
I wot not by what sudden grief, hath made exchange of life ; 
And for because on earth she found nought but unrest, 2 541 
In heaven hath she sought to find a place of quiet rest; 
And with these weeping eyes myself have seen her laid 
Within the tomb of Capulets' : and herewithal he stayed. 

This sudden message' sound, sent forth with sighs and tears. 
Our Romeus received too soon with open list'ning ears ; 
And thereby hath sunk in such sorrow in his heart, 
That lo, his sprite annoyed sore with torment and with smart. 
Was like to break out of his prison house perforce, [corse. 
And that he might fly after hers, would leave the massy 
But earnest love that will not fail him till his end, 2551 
This fond and sudden fantasy into his head did send : 
That if near unto her he offered up his breath, [death. 

That then a hundred thousand parts more glorious were his 
Eke should his painful heart a great deal more be eased, 
And more also, he vainly thought, his lady better pleased. 
Wherefore when he his face hath washed with water clean. 
Lest that the stains of dried tears might on his cheeks be seen. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 95 

And so his sorrow should of everyone be spied, 2559 

Which he with all his care did seek from everyone to hide. 
Straight, weary of the house, he walketh forth abroad : 
His servant, at the master's hest, in chamber still abode ; 
And then fro street to street he wand'reth up and down, 
To see if he in any place may find, in all the town, 
A salve meet for his sore, an oil fit for his wound ; [found. 
And seeking long — alack, too soon ! — the thing he sought, he 

An apothecary sat unbusied at his door, 
Whom by his heavy countenance he guessed to be poor. 
And in his shop he saw his boxes were but few. 
And in his window, of his wares, there was so small a shew ; 
Wherefore our Romeus assuredly hath thought, 2571 

What by no friendship could be got, with money should be 
For needy lack is like the poor man to compel [bought ; 
To sell that which the city's law forbiddeth him to sell. 
Then by the hand he drew the needy man apart, 2575 

And with the sight of glitt'ring gold inflamed hath his heart : 

* Take fifty crowns of gold,' quoth he, ' I give them thee. 
So that, before I part from hence, thou straight deliver me 
Some poison strong, that may in less than half an hour 
Kill him whose wretched hap shall be the potion to devour.' 
The wretch by covetise is won, and doth assent 2581 

To sell the thing, whose sale ere long, too late, he doth repent. 
In haste he poison sought, and closely he it bound. 
And then began with whispering voice thus in his ear to round : 
* Fair sir,' quoth he, ^ be sure this is the speeding gear, 2585 
And more there is than you shall need ; for half of that is there 



96 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Will serve, I undertake, In less than half an hour 

To kill the strongest man alive ; such is the poison's power/ 

Then Romeus, somewhat eased of one part of his care. 
Within his bosom putteth up his dear unthrifty ware. 2590 
Returning home again, he sent his man away 
To Verone town, and chargeth him that he, without delay, 
Provide both instruments to open wide the tomb. 
And lights to show him Juliet ; and stay till he shall come 
Near to the place whereas his loving wife doth rest, 2595 
And chargeth him not to bewray the dolours of his breast. 
■Peter, these heard, his leave doth of his master take ; 
Betime he comes to town, such haste the painful man did make: 
And then with busy care he seeketh to fulfil. 
But doth disclose unto no wight his woeful master's will. 
Would God, he had herein broken his master's hest ! 2601 
Would God, that to the friar he had disclosed all his breast ! 
But Romeus the while with many a deadly thought 
Provoked much, hath caused ink and paper to be brought. 
And in few lines he did of all his love discourse, 2605 

How by the friar's help, and by the knowledge of the nurse, 
The wedlock knot was knit, and by what mean that night 
And many mo he did enjoy his happy heart's delight ; 
Where he the poison bought, and how his life should end ; 
And so his wailful tragedy the wretched man hath penned. 

The letters closed and sealed, directed to his sire, 261 1 

He locketh in his purse, and then a post-horse doth he hire. 
When he approached near, he warely lighted down. 
And even with the shade of night he entered Verone town ; 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 97 

Where he hath found his man, waiting when he should come. 
With lantern, and with instruments to open Juliet's tomb. 

* Help, Peter, help,' quod he, * help to remove the stone. 
And straight when I am gone fro thee, my Juliet to bemoan, 
Sec that thou get thee hence, and on the pain of death 
I charge thee that thou come not near while I abide beneath, 
Ne seek thou not to let thy master's enterprise, 2621 

Which he hath fully purposed to do, in any wise. 
Take there a letter, which, as soon as he shall rise. 
Present it in the morning to my loving father's eyes ; 
Which unto him, perhaps, far pleasanter shall seem, 2625 
Than either I do mind to say, or thy gross head can deem.' 

Now Peter, that knew not the purpose of his heart, "^ 
Obediently a little way withdrew himself apart ; 
And then our Romeus (the vault-stone set upright), 
Descended down, and in his hand he bare the candle light. 
And then with piteous eye the body of his wife 2631 

He 'gan behold, who surely was the organ of his life ; 
For whom unhappy now he is, but erst was blissed, [kissed ; 
He watered her with tears, and then a hundred times her 
And in his folded arms full straitly he her plight, 2635 

But no way could his greedy eyes be filled with her sight ; 
His fearful hands he laid upon her stomach cold, 
And them on divers parts beside the woeful wight did hold. 
But when he could not find the signs of life he sought. 
Out of his cursed box he drew the poison that he bought ; 
Whereof he greedily devoured the greater part, [heart : 

And then he cried, with deadly sigh fetched from his mourning 



98 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

* O Juliet, of whom the world unworthy was, [pass, 

From which, for world's unworthiness thy worthy ghost did 
What death more pleasant could my heart wish to abide 
Than that which here it sufF'reth now, so near thy friendly side ? 
Or else so glorious tomb how could my youth have craved, 
As in one self-same vault with thee haply to be ingraved r 
What epitaph more worth, or half so excellent, 
To consecrate my memory, could any man invent, 2650 
As this our mutual and our piteous sacrifice 
Of life, set light for love ? ' 

But while he talketh in this wise, 
And thought as yet awhile his dolours to enforce, [force ; 
His tender heart began to faint, pressed with the venom*s 
Which little and little 'gan to overcome his heart, 2655 
And whilst his busy eyne he threw about to every part, 
He saw, hard by the corse of sleeping Juliet, 
Bold Tybalt's carcase dead, which was not all consumed yet ; 
To whom, as having life, in this sort speaketh he : 

* Ah, cousin dear, Tybalt, whereso thy restless sprite now be, 
With stretched hands to thee for mercy now I cry, 2661 
For that before thy kindly hour I forced thee to die. 
But if with quenched life not quenched be thine ire, 
But with revenging lust as yet thy heart be set on fire. 
What more amends, or cruel wreak desirest thou [now ? 
To see on me, than this which here is showed forth to thee 
Who reft by force of arms from thee thy living breath, 
Tlie same with his own hand, thou seest, doth poison him- 
self to death. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 99 

And for he caused thee in tomb too soon to lie. 

Too soon also, younger than thou, himself he layeth by.' 2670 

These said, when he 'gan feel the poison's force prevail, 
And little and little mastered life for aye began to fail. 
Kneeling upon his knees, he said with voice full low, — 
* Lord Christ, that so to ransom me descendedst long ago 
Out of thy Father's bosom, and in the Virgin's womb 2675 
Didst put on flesh, oh, let my plaint out of this hollow tomb, 
Pierce through the air, and grant my suit may favour find ; 
Take pity on my sinful and my poor afflicted mind ! 
For well enough I know, this body is but clay. 
Nought but a mass of sin, too frail, and subject to decay.' 2680 
Then pressed with extreme grief he threw with so great force 
His overpressed parts upon his lady's wailed corse. 
That now his weakened heart, weakened with torments past, 
Unable to abide this pang, the sharpest and the last. 
Remained quite deprived of sense and kindly strength, 2685 
And so the long imprisoned soul hath freedom won at length. 
Ah cruel death, too soon, too soon was this divorce, [corse ! 
'Twixt youthful Romeus' heavenly sprite, and his fair earthy 

The friar that knew what time the powder had been taken. 
Knew eke the very instant when the sleeper should awaken ; 
But wondering that he could no kind of answer hear 2691 
Of letters which to Romeus his fellow friar did bear. 
Out of Saint Francis' church himself alone did fare. 
And for the opening of the tomb meet instruments he bare. 
Approaching nigh the place and seeing there the light, 2695 
Great horror felt he in his heart, by strange and sudden sight ; 



100 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Till Peter, Romeus' man, his coward heart made bold, 
When of his master's being there the certain news he told : 

* There hath he been,' quoth he, * this half hour at the 

least, 
And in this time, I dare well say, his plaint hath still increast.' 
Then both they entered in, where they, alas, did find 2701 
The breathless corpse of Romeus, forsaken of the mind : 
Where they have made such moan, as they may best conceive, 
That have with perfect friendship loved, whose friend fierce 

death did reave. 
But whilst with piteous plaint they Romeus' fate beweep. 
An hour too late fair Juliet awaked out of sleep ; 2706 

And much amazed to see in tomb so great a light. 
She wist not if she saw a dream, or sprite that walked by night. 
But coming to herself she knew them, and said thus : 

* What, friar Laurence, is it you ? Where is my Romeus ? ' 
And then the ancient friar, that greatly stood in fear, 271 1 
Lest, if they lingered over long they should be taken there, 
In few plain words the whole that was betid, he told. 
And with his finger showed his corpse out-stretched, stiff, and 

cold ; 
And then persuaded her with patience to abide 2715 

This sudden great mischance, and saith, that he will soon 
In some religious house for her a quiet place, [provide 

Where she may spend the rest of life, and where in time, per- 

case. 
She may with wisdom's mean measure her mourning breast, 
And unto her tormented soul call back exiled rest. 2720 



ROMEUS AND JULIET loi 

But lo, as soon as she had cast her ruthful eye 
On Romeus' face, that pale and wan fast by her side did lie, 
Straightway she did unstop the conduits of her tears, [hairs. 
And out they gush ; — with cruel hand she tare her golden 
But when she neither could her swelling sorrow 'suage 2725 
Ne yet her tender heart abide her sickness' furious rage, 
Fall'n on his corpse she lay, long panting on his face. 
And then with all her force and strength the dead corpse did 

embrace. 
As though with sighs, with sobs, with force, and busy pain 
She would him raise, and him restore from death to life again ; 
A thousand times she kissed his mouth, as cold as stone, 273 1 
And it unkissed again as oft ; then 'gan she thus to moan : 

* Ah, pleasant prop of all my thoughts, ah, only ground 
Of all the sweet delights that yet in all my life I found. 
Did such assured trust within thy heart repose, 2735 

That in this place and at this time, thy churchyard thou hast 
Betwixt the arms of me, thy perfect-loving make ? [chose 
And thus by means of me to end thy life, and for my sake ? 
Even in the flow'ring of thy youth, when unto thee 
Thy life most dear, as to the most, and pleasant ought to be, 
How could this tender corpse withstand the cruel fight 2741 
Of furious Death, that wonts to fray the stoutest with his 

sight ? 
How could thy dainty youth agree with willing heart. 
In this so foul-infected place to dwell, where now thou art ? 
Where spiteful Fortune hath appointed thee to be 2745 
The dainty food of greedy worms, unworthy, sure, of thee. 



I02 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Alas, alas, alas, what needed now anew 
My wonted sorrows, doubled twice, again thus to renew ? 
Which both the time and eke my patient long abode 
Should now at length have quenched quite, and under foot 

have trode ? 2750 

Ah, wretch and caitive that I am, even when I thought 
To find my painful passion's salve, I missed the thing I sought ; 
And to my mortal harm the fatal knife I ground, 
That gave to me so deep, so wide, so cruel deadly wound ! 
Ah thou, most fortunate and most unhappy tomb ! ^75 5 
For thou shalt bear, from age to age, witness in time to come 
Of the most perfect league betwixt a pair of lovers. 
That were the most unfortunate and fortunate of others, 
Receive the latter sigh, receive the latter pang. 
Of the most cruel of cruel slaves that wrath and death aye 

wrang/ 2760 

And when our Juliet would continue still her moan. 
The friar and the servant fled, and left her there alone ; 
For they a sudden noise fast by the place did hear. 
And lest they might be taken there, greatly they stood in fear. 
When Juliet saw herself left in the vault alone, 2765 

That freely she might work her will, for let or stay was none, 
Then once for all she took the cause of all her harms. 
The body dead of Romeus, and clasped it in her arms ; 
Then she with earnest kiss sufficiently did prove. 
That more than by the fear of death, she was attaint by love ; 
And then past deadly fear, for life ne had she care, 2771 
With hasty hand she did draw out the dagger that he ware. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 103 

*0 welcome Death/ quoth she, * end of unhappiness, 
That also art beginning of assured happiness, 
Fear not to dart me now, thy stripe no longer stay, 2775 
Prolong no longer now my life, I hate this long delay ; 
For straight my parting sprite, out of this carcase fled. 
At ease shall find my Romeus' sprite among so many dead. 
And thou my loving lord, Romeus, my trusty fere. 
If knowledge yet do rest in thee, if thou these words dost hear, 
Receive thou her, whom thou didst love so lawfully, 2781 
That caused, alas, thy violent death, although unwillingly ; 
And therefore willingly offers to thee her ghost, [to boast 
To th'end that no wight else but thou might have just cause 
Th'enjoying of my love, which aye I have reserved 2785 
Free from the rest, bound unto thee, that hast it well deserved ; 
That so our parted sprites from light that we see here, 
In place of endless light and bliss may ever live y-fere/ 
These said, her ruthless hand through-girt her valiant 

heart: 
Ah, ladies, help with tears to wail the lady's deadly smart ! 2790 
She groans, she stretcheth out her limbs, she shuts her eyes, 
And from her corpse the sprite doth fly ; — what should I 

say ? — she dies. ...^m 

The watchmen of the town the whilst are passed by, [ spy ; 
And through the gates the candle-light within the tomb they 
Whereby they did suppose enchanters to be come, 2795 

That with prepared instruments had opened wide the tomb, 
In purpose to abuse the bodies of the dead, 
Which by their science' aid abused, do stand them oft in stead. 



104- ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Their curious hearts desire the truth hereof to know ; 
Then they by certain steps descend, where they do find below, 
In clasped arms y-wrapt, the husband and the wife, 2801 
In whom as yet they seemed to see some certain marks of life. 
But when more curiously with leisure they did view, 
The certainty of both their deaths assuredly they knew : 
Then here and there so long with careful eye they sought, 2805 
That at the length hidden they found the murth'rers ; — so 

they thought. 
In dungeon deep that night they lodged them underground ; 
The next day do they tell the prince the mischief that they 

found. 
The news was by and by throughout the town dispread. 
Both of the taking of the friar, and of the two found dead. 2810 
Thither might you have seen whole households forth to run, 
For to the tomb where they did hear this wonder strange was 

done. 
The great, the small, the rich, the poor, the young, the old, 
With hasty pace do run to see, but rue when they behold. 
And that the murtherers to all men might be known, 2815 
Like as the murder's bruit abroad through all the town was 

blown, 
The prince did straight ordain, the corses that were found 
Should be set forth upon a stage high raised from the ground, 
Right in the selfsame form, showed forth to all men's sight, 
That in the hollow vault they had been found that other night ; 
And eke that Romeus' man and Friar Laurence should 2821 
Be openly examined ; for else the people would 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 105 

Have murmured, or feigned there were some weighty cause 
Why openly they were not called, and so convict by laws. 

The holy friar now, and reverent by his age, 2825 

In great reproach set to the show upon the open stage, — 
A thing that ill beseemed a man of silver hairs, — 
His beard as white as milk he bathes with great fast-falling 

tears : 
Whom straight the dreadful judge commandeth to declare 
Both, how this murther had been done, and who the 
murth'rers are ; 2830 

For that he near the tomb was found at hours unfit, 
And had with him those iron tools for such a purpose fit. 
The friar was of lively sprite and free of speech. 
The judge's words appalled him not, ne were his wits to seech, 
But with advised heed a while first did he stay, 2835 

And then with bold assured voice aloud thus 'gan he say : 

My lords, there is not one among you, set together. 
So that, affection set aside, by wisdom he consider 
My former passed life, and this my extreme age. 
And eke this heavy sight, the wreak of frantic Fortune's rage, 
But that, amazed much, doth wonder at this change, 2841 
So great, so suddenly befall'n, unlooked for, and strange. 
For I, that in the space of sixty years and ten, 
Since first I did begin, too soon, to lead my life with men. 
And with the world's vain things, myself I did acquaint, 2845 
Was never yet, in open place, at any time attaint 
With any crime, in weight as heavy as a rush, 
Ne is there any stander-by can make me guilty blush, 



ic6 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Although before the face of God, I do confess 
Myself to be the sinfull'st wretch of all this mighty press. 28 sO 
When readiest I am and likeliest to make 
My great accompt, which no man else for me shall undertake; 
When worms, the earth, and death, do cite me every hour, 
T'appear before the judgment seat of everlasting power. 
And falling ripe, I step upon my grave's brink, [think. 

Even then, am I, most wretched wight, as each of you doth 
Through my most heinous deed, with headlong sway thrown 
In greatest danger of my life, and domage of renown, [down. 
The spring, whence in your head this new conceit doth rise, 
And in your heart increaseth still your vain and wrong surmise, 
May be the hugeness of these tears of mine, percase, 2861 
That so abundantly down fall by either side my face ; 
As though the memory in Scriptures were not kept 
That Christ our Saviour himself for ruth and pity wept ; 
And more, whoso will read, y-written shall he find, 2865 
That tears are as true messengers of man's unguilty mind. 
Or else, a liker proof, that I am in the crime. 
You say these present irons are, and the suspected time ; 
As though all hours alike had not been made above ! 
Did Christ not say, the day had twelve ? — whereby he sought 
That no respect of hours ought justly to be had, [to prove, 
But at all times men have the choice of doing good or bad ; 
Even as the sprite of God the hearts of men doth guide. 
Or as it leaveth them to stray from virtue's path aside. 
As for the irons that were taken in my hand, 2875 

As now I deem, I need not seek to make ye understand 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 107 

To what use iron first was made, when it began ; 
How of itself it helpeth not, ne yet can help a man. 
The thing that hurteth is the malice of his will. 
That such indifferent things is wont to use and order ill. 2880 
Thus much I thought to say, to cause you so to know 
That neither these my piteous tears, though ne'er so fast they 
Ne yet these iron tools, nor the suspected time, [flow, 

Can justly prove the murther done, or damn me of the crime : 
No one of these hath power, ne power have all the three, 2885 
To make me other than I am, how so I seem to be. 
But sure my conscience, if so my guilt deserve. 
For an appeacher, witness, and a hangman, eke should serve ; 
For through mine age, whose hairs of long time since were hoar. 
And credit great that I was in, with you, in time tofore, 2890 
And eke the sojourn short that I on earth must make. 
That every day and hour do look my journey hence to take, 
My conscience inwardly should more torment me thrice, 
Than all the outward deadly pain that all you could devise. 
But, God I praise, I feel no worm that gnaweth me, 2895 
And from remorse's pricking sting I joy that I am free : 
I mean, as touching this, wherewith you troubled are. 
Wherewith you should be troubled still, if I my speech should 
But to the end I may set all your hearts at rest, [spare. 

And pluck out all the scruples that are rooted in your breast, 
Which might perhaps henceforth, increasing more and more, 
Within your conscience also increase your cureless sore, 
I swear by yonder heavens, whither I hope to climb, 2903 
And for a witness of my words my heart attesteth Him, 



io8 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

Whose mighty hand doth wield them in their violent sway, 
And on the rolling stormy seas the heavy earth doth stay, 
That I will make a short and eke a true discourse 
Of this most woeful tragedy, and show both th'end and source 
Of their unhappy death, which you perchance no less 
Will wonder at than they, alas, poor lovers in distress, 2910 
Tormented much in mind, not forcing lively breath, 
With strong and patient heart did yield themself to cruel 
Such was the mutual love wherein they burned both, [death: 
And of their promised friendship's faith so steady was the troth.* 
And then the ancient friar began to make discourse, 291 5 
Even from the first, of Romeus' and Juliet's amours ; 
How first by sudden sight the one the other chose, 
And 'twixt themself did knit the knot which only death might 
And how, within a while, with hotter love oppressed, [loose; 
Under confession's cloak, to him themself they have addressed. 
And how with solemn oaths they have protested both, 2921 
That they in heart are married by promise and by oath ; 
And that except he grant the rites of church to give, 
They shall be forced by earnest love in sinful state to live : 
Which thing when he had weighed, and when he understood 
That the agreement 'twixt them twain was lawful, honest. 
And all things peised well, it seemed meet to be, [good. 
For like they were of nobleness, age, riches, and degree : 
Hoping that so, at length, ended might be the strife, 
Of Montagues and Capulets, that led in hate their life, 2930 
Thinking to work a work well pleasing in God's sight. 
In secret shrift he wedded them ; and they the self-same night 



ROMEUS AND JULIET 109 

Made up the marriage in house of Capulet, 

As well doth know, if she be asked, the nurse of Juliet. 

He told how Romeus fled for reaving Tybalt's life, 2935 

And how, the whilst, Paris the earl was offered to his wife ; 

And how the lady did so great a wrong disdain. 

And how to shrift unto his church she came to him again ; 

And how she fell flat down before his feet aground. 

And how she sware, her hand and bloody knife should wound 

Her harmless heart, except that he some mean did find 2941 

To disappoint the earFs attempt ; and spotless save her mind. 

Wherefore, he doth conclude, although that long before 

By thought of death and age he had refused for evermore 

The hidden arts which he delighted in, in youth, — 294.5 

Yet won by her importuneness, and by his inward ruth, 

And fearing lest she would her cruel vow discharge 

His closed conscience he had opened and set at large ; 

And rather did he choose to suffer for one time 

His soul to be spotted somedeal with small and easy crime, 

Than that the lady should, weary of living breath, 2951 

Murther herself, and danger much her seely soul by death : 

Wherefore his ancient arts again he puts in ure, 

A certain powder gave he her, that made her sleep so sure, 

That they her held for dead ; and how that Friar John 2955 

With letters sent to Romeus to Mantua is gone ; 

Of whom he knoweth not as yet, what is become ; [tomb. 

And how that dead he found his friend within her kindred's 

He thinks with poison strong, for care the young man sterved. 

Supposing Juliet dead; and how that Juliet hath carved, 2960 



no ROMEUS AND JULIET 

With Romeus' dagger drawn, her heart, and yielded breath, 
Desirous to accompany her lover after death ; 
And how they could not save her, so they were afeard, 
And hid themself, dreading the noise of watchmen, that they 
And for the proof of this his tale, he doth desire [heard. 
The judge to send forthwith to Mantua for the friar, 2966 
To learn his cause of stay, and eke to read his letter ; 
And, more beside, to th*end that they might judge his cause 
He prayeth them depose the nurse of Juliet, [the better, 
And Romeus' man whom at unwares beside the tomb he met. 

Then Peter, not so much erst as he was, dismayed ; 2971 
' My lords,' quoth he, * too true is all that Friar Laurence said. 
And when my master went into my mistress' grave. 
This letter that I offer you, unto me then he gave, 
Which he himself did write, as I do understand, 2975 

And charged me to offer them unto his father's hand.' 

The opened packet doth contain in it the same 
That erst the skilful friar said ; and eke the wretch's name 
That had at his request the deadly poison sold. 
The price of it, and why he bought, his letters plain have told. 
The case unfolded so and open now it lies, 2981 

That they could wish no better proof, save seeing it with their 
So orderly all things were told and tried out, [eyes ; 

That in the press there was not one that stood at all in doubt. 

The wiser sort, to council called by Escalus, 2985 

Have given advice, and Escalus sagely decreeth thus : 
The nurse of Juliet is banished in her age. 
Because that from the parents she did hide the marriage. 



ROMEUS AND JULIET iii 

Which might have wrought much good had it in time been 

known, 
Where now by her concealing it a mischief great is grown ; 
And Peter, for he did obey his master's hest, 2991 

In wonted freedom had good leave to lead his life in rest ; 
Th'apothecary high is hanged by the throat. 
And for the pains he took with him the hangman had his coat. 
But now what shall betide of this grey-bearded sire? 2995 
Of Friar Laurence thus arraigned, that good barefooted friar ? 
Because that many times he worthily did serve 
The commonwealth, and in his life was never found to swerve. 
He was discharged quite, and no mark of defame 
Did seem to blot or touch at all the honour of his name. 3000 
But of himself he went into an hermitage, [his age ; 

Two miles from Verone town, where he in prayers passed forth 
Till that from earth to heaven his heavenly sprite did fly, 
Five years he lived an hermit and an hermit did he die. 

The strangeness of the chance, when tried was the truth. 
The Montagues and Capulets hath moved so to ruth, 3006 
That with their emptied tears their choler and their rage 
Was emptied quite ; and they, whose wrath no wisdom could 

assuage. 
Nor threatening of the prince, ne mind of murthers done, 
At length, so mighty Jove it would, by pity they are won. 3010 
And lest that length of time might from our minds remove 
The memory of so perfect, sound, and so approved love. 
The bodies dead, removed from vault where they did die. 
In stately tomb, on pillars great of marble, raise they high. 



112 ROMEUS AND JULIET 

On every side above were set, and eke beneath, 3015 

Great store of cunning epitaphs, in honour of their death. 

And even at this day the tomb is to be seen ; 

So that among the monuments that in Verona been, 

There is no monument more worthy of the sight, 

Than is the tomb of Juliet and Romeus her knight. 3020 



f[ Imprinted at London, in Fleet Street, within Temple 
Bar, at the Sign of the Hand and Star, by Richard 
Tottill the xix day of November, An. Do. 1562. 



TEXTUAL NOTES 

IN these Notes I record the readings of the various 
editions and of the original, and note words which have 
been modernised in this edition, but whose original form is 
worth notice. Spellings retained for purposes of rhyme are 
pointed out, too. The numbers refer to the lines. 

The spelling of the original is fairly constant, but one or 
two words, like subtle, possess quite a variety of forms. In 
the original the past tense in final ed, in which the vowel e 
is not sounded, is usually spelt de, as preferde (n), some- 
times only d, as indetvd (26), but there are a few exceptions, 
as sowede (79) pronounced sozo'd. Those words in which 
the ending is spelt ed, as compared (12), are to have this final 
syllable pronounced fully ; in these cases the e is accented in 
our modernisation. When the final sound of the past tense 
is t the word is usually so spelt, 2iS prickt (72), but there are 
numerous exceptions due to the conventional spelling, as 
touchd (233) 2Mdi forsd {^z). In some cases, too, the usual 
verb-ending in est of the 2nd person singular is printed in 
full, where the elision of the e would be phonetically more 
correct, ^ee Notes to lines 1423, 1457. 

Brooke retained a number of old forms for purposes of 
rhyme, as geast (162) for the sake oi feast {\6\), although 
he elsewhere spells gestes (185). In some words the r has 
to be trilled for a syllable, as forborne (1022). These cases 
are also noticed. 



114 TEXTUAL NOTES 

As was often the case, the old editors copied one another. 
Collier followed Malone and Halliwell Collier, but Hazlitt 
collated his text with Huth's original and avoided most of 
the old errors. Daniel went straight to the original in the 
Bodleian, and printed the most perfect text, and our text is 
in the main taken from him ; but the original has been 
referred to in dubious cases. In collating with Malone I 
used his small separate volume of Romeiis, printed in 1780, 
of which only twelve copies were taken off. This does not 
contain many of the inaccuracies noted in Daniel's collation. 
As Halliwell followed Collier, and apparently corrected his 
text nowhere except in 1. 2926, where he reads the obvious 
them for rhem, I do not give the results of collation with him. 

M.= Malone; C.= Collier; H.= Hazlitt; D.= Daniel; 
0.= Original. 
9. betid. O. betyde. 
18. hair. O. heare. 
38. blood. O. bloud. 
43. gentle. O. ientyl. 
50. burned. O. boornd. 
89. whilst. O. whilest, but monosyllabic. 

96. yield. O. yeld. 

97. he run. O. he ronne ; C. be. The h in O. is a 
defective type, hence the misreading. 

98. sun. O. Sonne. 
loi. among. O. emong. 
116. booteth. C, H. bootest. 



TEXTUAL NOTES 115 

118. sweeter. O.j C, H. szveUer. 
129. veil. O. z'sa/e. 
135. barren. O. barrayne. 
144. fret. O.freate. 

162. geast, retained for rhyme v^'w^i feast, 

163. thither. O. thether. 
168. press. O.prease. 

173. than. O. then. 

174. maugre. O., D. mauger\ M., C, H. maugre. 
192. beholding. O. behelding. 

201. perfect. O.perjit. 

213. scarcely. O. skasely. 

220. wrapt. O. wrapt. In O. the words 7'apt and wrapt 
are confused. Rapt (283) is Middle English rapen^ to carry 
away, transport, and so is wrapped (O. wrapt), 483. Bewrapt 
(382), and wrapt (388), are used correctly. Wrapt (220) is 
a further confusion, which was very common, with Latin 
raptus, from rapere, to seize. . 

226. limb. O. limme. 

267. tender. M., C, H. slender. 

269. hath. C, H. had. 

284. quoth he. O. {q^ he). 

305. so. C. to. 

315. seld. O. Slid. 

316. the own. D. conjectures their or hts own — unneces- 
sarily, the ozvn being a good expression. 

352. yonder. O. yender. 

374. th' attempted. O. thattempted -, C, H. that tempted. 



ii6 TEXTUAL NOTES 

381. subtle. O. soottill. 
396. subtle. O. stiitel. 

398. befiled. O., C, H. befylde-, M. defylde. 
416. my thought. M., C, H. my thoughts i D. conjec- 
tures me thought. 

419. talked. D.'s emendation iaikt ; O., M., C, H. talke, 
460. reaveth. O. reueth ; M. driveth. 

lover's. O., C, H. loves. 
463. doth. O. both. 

465. hour. Bracket in O., C, H. and D. ends at hour \ 
M. has no bracket; here at bozver (466). See next note. 

466. bower. M., C, H., D. bozvre ; O. hozvre. 
^j6. Aye. O. Jy ; M. In. 

484. sudden. O. soda'in. 
557. betimes. C.yll. bestimes. 
569. lurk. O. loorke. 
575. of. D. , a printing error. 
599. redeth. O. readeth. 
663. tail. O. tayle. See Glossary. 
666. chat. O. that. 
66j. six. O. z'i. 

733. quoth he. O., C, H., D. {q* he) ; M. quod he. 
740. friar. O. fryre, here monosyllabic ; usually dis- 
syllabic, as 2045, and then s^t\x.ffyer. 
']\6. hours. O. hozvers, here dissyllabic. 
777. will we. C, H. we will. 
783. y-beat. O.ybet. 
825. bound. O. bond. 



TEXTUAL NOTES 117 

846. fets. O.fettes. 

856. all. C, H. omitted. 

870. feign. 0.fayne\ in 844, O.fayne hfain. 

871. sprung. O. sprang. 

872. wrung. O. wroong. 

899. easily. O. easel-y ; but in 1202 O. easely is only dis- 
syllabic, and we print easely. 

911. blindfold. O. blyndfyld. 

919. Thus. O., C, H. This. 

926. dis-eased. O. diseased. 

940. turn. O. toorne. 

957. raked. O. raakd. 

985. gasp. O., M., H., D. gaspe ; C. graspe. 

988. whom. O., D. who\ M., H. whom\ C. who. 

1003. and. M. omitted. 

fierce. O., M., C, H. feerce ', T). fee , an 

error in printing. 

10 10. sword. O, szverd. 

hath. M., C, H. had. 

1022. forborne; the r is trilled, making the word tris- 
sy liable. 

1 05 I . plague. O. plage. 

1060. luckless. O. lookeles. 

1062. native. O. natife\ so also 1439. 

1070. seer's. O. seers. 

1099. accursed. O. a curst. 

1 1 10. abode. M., D. abode \ O., C, H. abrode. Abode 
is apparently correct, for Boaistuau has here repos, p. 5 7, b. 



ii8 TEXTUAL NOTES 

1 1 19. weened. O. wend. 

1 188. begun. O., C, H., D. hegoone\ M. hegonne. 

1 192. me. O. m'j. 

1202. easely, here dissyllabic, ^ee note to 899. 

1204. held. O. hyld. 

1205. sits. C, H.///. 
1258. lover. O. louer, louer. 

1322. with. O., D. w* \ C, H. zv* sobs. 

1 33 1 . wishM that he had. O., M., C, H. wished that he 
had\ D. reads he [ne"] had, unnecessarily, I think : the original 
spelling, wished, shows that the word is dissyllabic and the 
insertion of ne destroys the metre. The poet simply means 
that he (Romeus) wished he had been born earlier, so as to 
have avoided the troubles consequent upon his actual life- 
time. 

1339. lasten. C, H. hasten. 

1344. Unconstant. O. Vinconstant -, C, H. Uinconstant. 

1357. hour. O. howre, is dissyllabic. 

1389. gaol. 0,gayle. 

1396. after. 0.,C.,}r{. afther. 

1 40 1, med'cine. O. medson. 

1423. mad'st. O., etc., madest, but monosyllabic. 

1432. ought'st. O., H. oughtest, but monosyllabic; C. 
oughest; M., D. oughts t. 

1452. may'st. O., C, H., D. mast\ M. mayst. 

1453. Thither. O. Thether. 

1457. leav'st. O. leanest, but monosyllabic. 
1487. veil. O. veale. 



TEXTUAL NOTES 119 

1 49 1, skill-less. O. skil ks. 

1535. niuet. O. mueL 

1554. ge^son. O. geyso7t. 

1 56 1. That. O., C, H. Thol. 

1574. dooms. O., C, H., D. doomes\ M. doome. 

1592. tyrannous, properly, dissyllabic. O., M., H., D. 
tyrans ; C. tyrant. Tyrans is the abbreviated adjectival form 
{tyrannous), 

1645. will be. O. wtlbe. 

1646. so. O., etc., no. 

1657. bent t'obey. O., C, H. bend tobay \ M. bent to 
obey. Lore. M., C. love. 

1680. foreign. O.forein. 

1684. no. D. conjectures now. 

1693. his. O. hip. 

1769. hears. O. beares \ M., C, H., D. heares. 

1780. Romeus', possibly not the possessive case, but 
nominative. 

1782. truce. O. trewe\ M., D. trewce\ C. trewse\ 
H. trews. 

1799. had. M., C, H. hath. 

1840. amazed. O. amasd. 

1850. frailless. See Glossary. O., C, H., D. frayllesse\ 
M. skillesse. 

1 88 1. Among. O. Emong, 

1893. features. O.^C,Yi.,V>. fewters\ M.featers. 

1905. lavas, as in 491, where O., etc., have lauas. Here 
O., etc., have lauasse. See Glossary. 



I20 TEXTUAL NOTES 

1 910. yield. O. yelde. 

1945. wrath. O. worthy M., C, H., D. wroth. 

1954. Whenso they. O., M., H., D. When so they, 

C. When they so. 

1957. thy. C. the-, O., M., H., D. thy. 

1973. Unless. O. On lesse. 

1986. unfalsed. O. vnfalst. 

2003. th'end. O. thend. 

2050. had. M., C. hath ; H., D. had. 

2059. she. O. the. 

2088. friendship's. O., H., V>. frindships ; ^i. friendship ; 
Q.frindship. 

2097. travelled. O. trauayled. 

2101. beasts. O. beaste\ M., H., C, D. beastcs. 

2106. sprite. O. sprete. 

2157. dieth. O. dyeth\ D. conjectures /)'^/y^. 

2159. Thy. C, H. The-. O., M., D. thy. 

2 161. themself. M., D. them selfe\ O., C, H. himsclfe. 

2188. guie. O. ^j;^. 

2239. ^'^'^'^' 0-> C., H., D. in to; M. /;//o; D. conjec- 
tures in so. 

2248. precious. O.pretious. 

2259. earl, dissyllabic, the r trilled. 

2269. show. O. shezce, rhyming with rezv, 2270. 

2270. their. O. theie \ C, H., D. their \ M. theyr. 
2310. dis-ease. O. disease. 

2313. approached. O. opproched; M. aproched\ C, H., 

D. approched. 



TEXTUAL NOTES 121 

2314. tempered. O., C, H. tempted', M. temper^ d\ D. 
temperd. 

2324. she. O., M. the-, C, H., D. she. 

2339. She. C. So-, O., M., H., D. She. 

2351. I not. O., H., D. noti \ M., C. / not. 

2383. weighed. O. wayde. 

2390. tender. M., C, slender-, O., H., D. tender. 

2401. arms, dissyllabic, the r trilled. 

2429. shrieked. O. shriked. 

2450. to. O. omitted. 

2570. shew. O. shewy to rhyme v^\ih.few, 2569. 

2616. tomb. O. toomme, rhyming with cofnme, 2615. 

2629. upright. O., D. zpright\ M., C, H. up upright. 

2682. corse. O., M., H., D. corps-, C. corse. 

^'J'i6. thy churchyard. O., H. this churchyarde -, M., C, 
D. thy. 

281 1, might you. M., C, H. you might. 

2816. bruit. O. brute. 

2837. together. O. togyther, rhyming with consider, 2838. 

2843. sixty. O. Ix. 

2860. still. C. till. - 

2905. wield. O. zve/de. 

2921. they. C. thy. 

2926. them. C. rhem. 

2959. for. D. conjectures or. 

2971. much erst as he. O. as erst as; C, H. erst as; 
M., D. much as erst he. 

2984. press. O. prease. 



122 TEXTUAL NOTES 

3008. Was. M., C. Has ; D. says : " [Note.— This cor- 
rection obtained from Mr. H. Huth's copy of the ed. 1562. 
The copy in the Bodleian Library from which Malone 
(followed by Collier and Halliwell) printed his edition, is 
defaced in this place, the s only of the word remaining 
distinct.]" 



GLOSSARY 



AccoMPT, account, 2852 
AccoMPTED, accounted, 1625 
Alcume. This can only be 
meant for Alcmene, 
mother of Hercules, for 
the sake of whose love, 
Jupiter extended the night. 
Cf. Chaucer, Troll. III., 
1427:— 
O Night, alias ! why niltow 

over us hove, 
As longe as whanne Almena 
lay by Jove ? 

824 
AsTONNE, overpower, stun, 

2131 
Astound, astounded, 2033 
Atropos, one of the three 

Fates. See Sisters Three 
Attaint, convicted, 2846; 

infected, 2770 
Aye, ever, 84 

Bare, bore, 2630 
Been, are, 3018 
Befall, befallen, 1060 
Befiled, defiled ; a rather 
uncommon and archaic 



form, superseded by befotil. 
Collier's statement that 
our instance is merely a 
printer's error for defiled 
is not warranted. 398 

Behest, promise, 1884 

Beseeks, beseeches, 543 

Beside, except, 2354 

Besiegen, besiege, the old 
plural form, 2089 

Besprent, sprinkled, 1576 

Bet, better, 600 

Betorn, torn, 2422 

Bewray, disclose, betray, 

455 

Bin, are, 743 ; been, 1093 

Blear, blur, dim, 2292 

Blin, cease, 379 

Blindfold Goddess, For- 
tune, 91 1 

Bliss, bless, 285 

Blissed, blessed, 2633 

BoccACE, Boccaccio, the 
Italian novelist, 16; 394 

Boot, avail, 1833 

Boot, remedy, 1922 

Brackish, salt, 1576 

Brake, broke, 1699 



124 



GLOSSARY 



Brast, burst, 2441 
Brickle, brittle, 1850 
Bruit, noise, news, 2816 
But, except, 1643 

Caitive, distressed or afflicted 

person, 2751 
Capel's, Capulet's, 157 
Careful, full of care, 1484 
Chillish, chill, 2388 
Choler, anger, rage, 1505 
Cleped, called, named, 30 
Close, secret, 2336 
Convict, convicted, 2824 
Corse, corpse, 1040 
Could, was able to do, 1 1 59 
Covert, secret, 630 
Covetise, covetousness, 2581 
Cupid, 782, 915, etc.; his 

brand, 1442 ; his whip, 

606 
Curious, careful, 1895 
Curiously, carefully, 2803 

Daw, arouse, 2417 
Debate, strife, 166 
Defame, blame, ill-repute, 

2999 
Depart, separate, 1224 
Depose, call as witness, 

cause to depose, 2969 
Desart, desert, 710 



Dido, Queen of Carthage, 
who loved -^neas, driven 
to her shores by a storm 
after the fall of Troy. 
Mercury compelled ^neas 
to depart, and Dido burnt 
herself on a funeral pile. 

391 
DiGHT, dressed, adorned, 897 
Disdainful, indignant, 193 i 
Dis-ease, discomfort, set ill 
at ease ; common in 
Chaucer, 2207, 2310 
Domage, damage, 2858 
Drave, drove, 1 184 
Drempt, dreamed, 646 
Drenched, steeped, 2352 

Easely, easily, 1202 
Eft, again, 1295 
Eftsoons, forthwith, 1235 
Egall, equal, 33 
Erst, before, 586; first,20i7 
Estate, state, condition, 5 i 
Eyne, eyes, 87 

False, turn false, 594 

Fare, go, 2234 

Fates, Heavenly, another 
reference to the Three 
Fates. See Sisters Three. 
4 



GLOSSARY 



25 



Fearful, full of fear, 1944, 

2637 
Fell, cruel, perfidious, 78 
Feres, companions, friends, 

lOI 

Fet, fetch, 1076 

Fets, fetches, 846 

Field-bed, a portable bed, 
likened to a field of war. 
Boaistuau has here '■vn 
lict de camp? Shakspere has 
a play on the same word 
in RomeOj 11., i., 40. 897 

Filed, '•'■ tongue so smoothly 
filed?'* a common expres- 
sion, occurring in Skelton, 
Spenser, and Shakspere. 
Cf. " His discourse per- 
emptory, his tongue filed, 
his eye ambitious," etc. 
{Loves Labour'' s Lost^Sf ., i.) 
1017 

Flaws, sudden gusts or bursts 
of wind, 1 361 

FoLDE, folded, 216 

FoNE, foes, 1288 

Forced not, cared not, 74 

Force, " I force it not," I 
take no account of it, 
care not, 860 

Fordone, exhausted, 1468 

Forlorn, lost, 1 204 



Fortune, 1343, etc. ; wheel 
of, 935, etc. 

Frailless, in the original 
fra'^ Hesse. The line may 
signify, "glass (hard as it 
is) is brittle (and breaks), 
but youth, even less frail, 
is frail too." 1850. ^ee 
note to this line. Textual 
Notes. Malone's emend- 
ation to skillesse does not 
commend itself. [?"and 
frail as frail is youth." 
I.G.] 

Fraughted, fraught, filled, 
1 1 16 

Fray, frighten, 91 1 

Fro, from, 2618 

'Gan, began, 48 

Gear, stuff, preparation, 
2585 

Geason, scanty, 1554 

Geast, guest, 162 

Ghastfully, dismally, 2033 

Ghostly, spiritual, 595 

'Gin, begin, 1235 

'Gins, begins, 237 

Glead, fire, flame, 303 

Glist'ring, flashing, spark- 
ling, 2404 

Graffed, planted, 268 



GLOSSARY 



Grecian rape, Helen carried 

ofFby Paris, 2237 
Gripe, grip, 259 
Grisly, horrible, dreadful, 40 
Guerdon, reward, 1042 
Guerdonless, without re- 
ward, 338 
GuiE, guide, 2188 

Halt, from the French hault, 

proud, high-minded, 966 
Hap, chance, fortune, 1 5 
Haply, by good chance, 1 469 
Haste away, hasten on, 1924 
Hath wrong, is wronged, 

1048 
Heir, heiress, 1880 
Hent, held, 1808 
Hest, command, 19 
Hied, went, 1090 
Hieth, hies, travels, 2256 
Hight, was named, 223 
HoLP, helped, 580 
Horses, tearing asunder by, 

1902 
HuGY, huge, 2053 
Hymene, hymen, rites of 

marriage, 2510. French, 

hynmiee 

Importune, importunate, 
2275 



Importuneness, importunity 
or importuning, 2946 

Ingraved, buried, laid in 
grave, 2648 

Intombed, entombed, 2373 

It, used in the genitive, as in 
the folio of Shakspere, till 
superseded by the modern 
its. The form is retained 
here as appropriate in the 
language of the foolish old 
Nurse. 654 

Jennet, a small Spanish horse, 

723 _ 

JoiCELESs, juiceless, dry, with- 
ered, 1 1 39. Boaistuau 
has here, p. 58: * mon 
corps espuise de toute 
humidite^ 

Jove, 1305 

Kindly, natural, proper, 
2154, 2662 

Lasten, last, 1339 
Lavas, lavish, 491 
Leeches, doctors, 2455 
Legend, legendary, of the 

nature of legend, 39 
Let, hindrance, 2766 
Let, prevent, hinder, 2621 



GLOSSARY 



27 



Lethe's Flood, a river of 

Hades, a draught of whose 

waters brought oblivion, 

214 
Letteth, prevents, hinders, 

1620 
Lewd, vicious, evil, 14 
Lewdness, baseness, 1959 
Lighted down, alighted, 

2613 
List, chose, pleased, 28 
Listed, had pleased or 

chosen, 232 
Lively Thread, an allusion 

to the three Fates, 501. 

See Sisters Three. 
'Longed, belonged, 2287 
Lore, learning, 66 
Lore, lost, 1 8 1 3 
Lorn, lost, 115 
Lucifer, the star, 1704 

Make, companion, mate, 

2021, 2737 
Mars, 916 

Maugre, in spite of, 174 
Mean, means, 1561 
Mo, more, 597 
Moon, wasted horns of 

the, 153 
Most, "the most," most 

men, 2740 



Muet, mute {dissyllabic)^ 

1535, 1944 
Murthering, murdering, 

1 145 
Murtherers, murderers, 

2815 

Ne, nor, 190; not, 130 
NiLL, will not, 300 
NouLD, would not, 1996 
Novel, new, 208 

Ocean, " Ocean to the sea of 
Ind," a reference to Ocean 
as the great water which 
surrounded the world, 877 

Other, others, other people, 
822, 1381, 2473 

Ovid, 394 

Peised, poised, 524 
Percase, perchance, 2201 
Percher light, large wax 
candle, 2318. (The Cam- 
bridge University Library 
MS. of Chaucer's Troil. has 
percher in Book iv., 1. 1 245, 
instead of the usual morter. 
See Skeat's Note to his 
edition, p. 492.) 
Phoebus, the Sun ; a name 
for Apollo, 228 



128 



GLOSSARY 



Phcebus, steeds of, 920, 

1254 
Pleasure, Mount of, and the 

pit of pain, 1672 
Plight, folded, 2635 
Plight, plighted, gave, 145 
Poisoned Hook, wrapped in 

the pleasant bait, 388 
Port, appearance, bearing. 

Post, *' in post," in haste, 

hastily, 2532 

Preast, pressed, 2445 

Press, throng, crowd, 2984 

Prest, ready. Copied from 

Boalstuau, p. 48 b.: ^preste 

i^ apparelllee de vous suture.^ 

314 
Proper, own, 513, 2082 
Proverbs : — 

* Unminded oft are they 

that are unseen,' 206 
The poisoned hook is oft 

wrapped in the pleasant 

bait, 388 
Falsehood hides in cloak of 

Truth, 389 

* There is no better way to 

fish than with a golden 
hook,' 712 
Lost opportunities never 
recur, 801-2 



Love's troubles last long, 

1339 

*■ Pleasures grow of sight,' 

1660 
*The thing that hurteth is 

the malice of his [a man's] 

will,' 2879 

Quarters, small candles con- 
sisting of a block of wax 
with a wick in the middle, 
836 
Quell, kill, 1233 
Quod, quoth, said, 633 

Race, people, populace, 248 
Rampeth, reareth, rageth, 

1027 
Rampire, rampart, 11 54 
Rapt, carried away, trans- 
ported, 283, 1095, 2239 
Raught, reached, seized, 263 
Reaved, tore, or snatched 

away, 38 
Recourse, return ; perhaps 

visiting place, 2419 
Recure, recovery, 73 
Redeth, counsels, advises, 

599 
Reft, snatched away, 2667 

Report; her trumpet, 398 

Restiness, sluggishness, 1756 



GLOSSARY 



29 



Rive, rend, cleave, 1192 
Rive, tear away, banish, 208 
Round, whisper, 344 
Rout, crowd, 163 
Rue, sorrow, 2814 

Scant, scarcely, 16 

'Scape, escape, 1250 

Seech, seek, 2834. "His wits 
to seech/'his wits wanting. 

Seek, sicken, 413 

Seely, fond, foolish, 1 22, 640 

Seld, seldom, 3 i 5 

Shent, chidden, blamed, 648 

Shope, shaped, 1030 

Shroud, cover, conceal, 
1290. 

Sisters Three, the three 
Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, 
and Atropos, who presided 
over the destiny of men. 
The first was represented 
as holding the distaff and 
as spinning the thread, 
and Atropos as cutting it. 
Very frequently men- 
tioned by Chaucer. 23 

Sith, since, 19 

Skies, turning, the revolving 
heavens, 1747 

Skilless, without skill, 23 

SKiLLs,knowledge,ability, 5 7 1 



Sownd, swoon, 847 
Sprite, spirit, 1 109 
Stale, stole, 2272 
Stay, prevention, 2766 
Stede, stead, 1416 
Sterve, perish, 134 
Sterved, dead, 2462 
Straitly, closely, tightly, 

2635 
Strake, struck, 234 
'Suage, assuage, 2725 

Tail, posterior, with an im- 
plied pun on tale^ 663 
Tantalus, condemned to 
suffer intolerable thirst in 
Hades, steeped up to the 
chin in water which he 
could not drink, 339 
Tare, tore, 1291 
Testy, petulant, 193 1 
Theseus, governorofAthens ; 
he married Hippolyta {cf. 
Midsummer Night's Dream) 
and was met by a number 
of female suppliants com- 
plaining of Creon, King 
of Thebes. Theseus took 
Thebes and slew Creon, 
capturing there Palamos, 
and Arcite {cf. Chaucer's 
Knight's Tale). 198, 392 



I30 



GLOSSARY 



Thralled, subdued, 2415 
Through-girt, smitten 

through, pierced {Troll. ^ 

iv., 627), 2789 
TiCKEL, unstable, 1405 
Tide, time, 1253 
Tilt, tilth, tillage ground, 

786 
ToFORE, before, 1919 
Tooting hole, spyhole, 450 
Trode, trodden, 2750 

Ungrate, ingrate, ungrate- 
ful, 2212 

Unshut, opened, 2405 

Until, unto, 19 10 

Upright beam, "with up- 
right beam he weighed," 
etc. ; he judged without 
bias, as though weighing 
with level balances, 195. 
{See also 1. 524.) 

Ure, use, 2953 

Venus, 917 

Venus' Child, Cupid, 782 

Vial, phial, bottle, 2149 

Walt'ring, wallowing, wel- 
tering, 1293 



Wan, won, 1332 
Ware, wore, 1292 
Wareless, unwary, 220 
Warely, warily, 249 
Waxen, grow, wax, 1039 
Weed, robe, clothes, 1620 
Ween, think, consider, 332 
Weepen, weep {plural), 

2473. 
Well away, alas ! 2409 
Wight, man, person, 338 
Wist, knew, 265 
Withouten, without, 1735 
Wone, dwell, 2497 
Wones, dwells, 1963 
Worth, worthy, 2649 
Wox, waxed, 209 
Wrack, wreck, 808 
Wracked, wrecked, 1368 
Wrackful, dangerous, 802 
Wrapped, carried away, 

transported, 483 
Wrapt, seized, 220 
Wreakful, revengeful, 21 16 

Y-fere, in companionship, 

2788 
Y-FOLD, folded, 13 19 
Y-thralled, subjected, 1 873 
Y-wis, certainly, 701 



APPENDIX I 



TABLE OF CORRESPONDENCE 
BETWEEN 

Brooke's poem and shakspere's play 



The numbers on the left refer to Brooke's lines. The 
right-hand side of the column is reserved for the parallels 
or references in Shakspere's text. For the Italian novels 
I used Chiarini's reprint ; for Boaistuau, the edition of 
1559; for Shakspere, Professor Gollancz's Temple Edi- 
tion ; and for Chaucer, Professor Skeat's Clarendon Press 



Edition, 1900. 




The following abbreviations are used in Appendices L 
and IL : 


Br. = Brooke 
C. = Capulet 
Cris. = Criseyde 
J. = Juliet 
L. = Laurence 
M. = Montague 


N. = Nurse 
P. = Paris 
Pand. = Pandarus 
R. = Romeo 

Sh. = Shakspere 
rm7.= Chaucer's Trolltu 
and Criseyde 



132 



APPENDIX I 



Argument 
Corresponds to ist Prologue 







The 


Text 




2 


1st Prol. 2 




116 


I. i. 223-4 


25. 


32 1st Prol. I 
I. i. first part 2 




137 


I. i. 234 
I. ii. 87 


41 


I. i. 88 




140 


I. ii. 99 


53 


I. V. 69 




145 


Cf. I. i. 243-4 


57 


I. i. 174 seq. 




155 


See note 3 




I. ii. 46-51 




157 


1. ii. 20 


75 


Not in Sh. 




162 


I. ii. 34, 67 


92 


I. i. 125 seq. 




165 


I. ii. 67 


101 


I. i. 166 (Benvclio) 




I. V. 6j 



1 In Br. the story commences before Christmas, 155 ; a number of 
days pass after that in which R. passes J.'s window, 449, till the lovers 
speak in the moonlight, 467. The following Saturday J, goes to shrift, 
and is married, 716, 768. All this may take us to the end of January. 
Then their bliss lasts for "a month or twain," 949; the fray occurs 
the day after Easter, 960. This takes us to April. For some while 
afterwards, but we are not led to believe a great period, J. mourns. 
C. then forces her to promise to wed Paris on a following Wednesday, 
1973, and this, she tells L., is the loth of September. On this day J. is 
found in a trance, but meanwhile P. is said to have spent many days 
wooing her, 2277 {see also 2312). It is difficult to reconcile these 
statements and dates, but the significant point is that in Br. the action 
extends over nine months. In Sh. the lovers meet on Sunday ; they 
wed on Monday, pass the night together, and part on Tuesday morning, 
C. desires his daughter to wed on Thursday, but alters the day to 
Wednesday. She is then found apparently dead, and is buried. On 
Thursday night Romeo returns to her and they die together. The time 
of action in Sh. is, therefore, only five days, but the play concludes on 
the morning of the sixth. See also 1997. 

2 Sh. mentions specifically Three cit-il brazvls^ I. i. 96 ; not in Br. 

3 See note to Argument. 



167 I. iv. 

183 I. V. 67-94 

198 I. V. 43 

204 I. V. 54-5 

Cf. Prologue II., 3 

208 I. ii. 46 

216 I. V. 432 

233 I. V. 993 

246 I. V. 20, 43 

249 I. V. 52, 95 

254 I. V. 954 

i-y- 53 

255 I. iv. 27, etc. 
267 I. V. 102 
279 I. V. 95-112 
319 I. V. 113 
321 I. V. 1 145 
324-5 I. V. 120 



APPENDIX 


I 




344 


I. V. 130 




353 


I. V. 138 




357 


I. V. 140 




365- 


428 Not in Sh. 


•, 3 


388 


Cf. Prologue II 




439 


11. i. I 




448 


II. ii.6 




456 


Cf. II. i. 




457 


II. ii. 75 

III. ii. 10-15 




467 


II. ii. 23 
II. ii. 52 




493 


II. ii. 64 




499 


II. ii. 50 j^f.7 




518 


Cf II. ii. 23 




531 


II. ii. 94, 143 




536 


II. ii. 144 



133 



1 In Sh. T. rises in anger against R. but is restrained by C. {see Intro- 
duction). 

2 In Sh. R. asks a serving-man, but he is not able to inform him. R. 
afterwards asks N., I. v. 114. ; in Br. the person he asks is not specified. 

3 Sh. does not inform us of J.'s sudden passion, but her words, I. v. 99, 
v;ould lead us to believe that she has already noted R. In Sh. she is far 
more reticent and maidenly than in Br., where she opens the conversation. 

4 In Sh. Mercutio does not sit by J. ; his presence would, of course, 
have spoilt the beautiful lyrical confession of R. and J. 

5 See note to 216. 

'^ Sh.'s contraction of the time of the action and his conception of R.'s 
love would not permit of this dallying and frequent passing. See note 
to Argument. 

7 Sh. discards these windy rhetorical declarations, and gives us instead 
outbursts of lyrical splendour. 



134 



APPENDIX I 



541 


II. ii. 150-3 


631 


II. iv. 1094 


554 


II. ii. 127, 147 I 


633 


II. iv. 1925 


558-62 II. ii. 1892 


634 


II. iv. 198 


563 


II. ii. 125-7 


652 


I. iii. 16-62^ 


565 


II. iii. 1-30 




II. iv. 211 


581 


IV. ii. 31, etc. 


ee-j 


II. iv. 194 


587 


II. iii. 31 


673 


II. V. I 


596 


II. iii. 51, 60 




II. V. l87 


597 


II. iii. 65 


679 


II. V. 38 


599 


II. iii. 82 


684 


II. V. 48 


601 


II. iii. 85 


685 


II. V. 498 


607 


II. iii. 90 


688 


II. V. 70 


609 


II. iii. 91 


703 


II. V. 38, 56 


613 


II. iii. 93 


7169 




623 3 




721- 


J Not in Sh.^o 



1 In Sh. it is J. who yields herself, firstly, when R. overhears her, 
II. ii. 49, and secondly, before N. calls her away, II. ii. 147. 

2 He says this in Sh. in soliloquy, after J. has finally withdrawn, 
II. ii. 189. In Sh., J. promises to send N, to R. en the morrow to get 
the news, II. ii. 145 and 169. In both Sh. and Br., J. sends N. 

3 In Sh. Juliet confides in the Nurse in the interim between Scenes ii. 
and iv., Act II., while R. is at L.'s cell. 

4 In Sh. she brings her man Peter with her ; Peter in Br. is R.'s 
servant ; Balthasar is R.'s servant in Sh. 

5 In Sh. the wedding is to take place that very afternoon, i.e., on 
Monday. 

6 In Sh. this is mingled with news about P., who has already been 
promised J. In V. iii. "jd, R. thinks it is his man who has told him 
this. 

7 In Sh. N. is not speedy ; she is over three hours gone : II. v. i and 10. 

8 Elaborated in Sh. 

9 In Sh. the permission to go to shrift is obtained in the interim 
between Scenes v. and vi. Act II. 

10 In Sh. (II. vi. 16), J. appears unattended. 





APPENDIX 


I 


745 n. vl. I 




955 


III. i. 3-4 


753-66 Not in Sh. 




960 


III. i.6 


1^1 II. vi. 35^ 






Cf. I. i. 


774 II. iv. 22 1 2 




961 


I. i. 39 


779 Actll.vi. — Act III. V. 




III. i. 38 


809-13 3 




962 ' 


1 


815-6 III. ii. 344 




963 


II. iv. 19-27 


827 III. V.5 






III. i. 38 


830 II. ii. 66 




999. 


1007 III. i. 


841 III. V. I 






1698 


920 C/ III. ii. I ; 


III. V. 


lOII 


III. i. 71 



135 



59. 89, 



1 In Sh. we do not see this marriage ceremony ; it takes place imme- 
diately after II. vi. 

2 In Sh. R. himself tells N. to come for the ladder, II. iv. 199, within 
an hour of that present time, and before the marriage. 

3 In Sh. the ladder is procured between II. iv. and III. ii. 

4 Here Sh. has introduced the fatal fray with Tybalt, cutting out this 
meeting of the lovers at night and many subsequent ones [see note to 
Argument), and concentrating all their passion on the one night of 
meeting and parting, III. v., for which, in Br., zee 1529. 

5 ^ee last note : this meeting is cut out in Sh. 

6 In Sh. the fight occurs on the wedding-day, soon after the wedding. 
There are two frays in Sh., the other being in I. i. 

7 Sh. does not mention the Purser's gate, the scene being merely A 
Public Place. In Boaistuau, p. 546 : la parte de Boursari. In Sh., 
Mercutio, rash and bold, provokes T., and is villainously slain by him 
under R.'s arm. Sh.'s R., just come from his marriage, is not capable 
of the burst of fury which Br.'s R. evinces, and is stirred to action only 
after the fall of Mercutio. 

8 In Sh. T. is watching for R., III. i. 59 ; he has already challenged 
him to fight, II. iv. 6, consequent upon his words of threat at the banquet, 
I. V. 94. None of this is in Br. Cf. R.'s interference with Benvolio's, 
I. i. 71. 



136 






APPENDIX I 




I0I9 


III. i. 


1361 




1 145 


III. ii. 985 


I03I 


III. i. 


^11 






III. ii. 90 


I034 


III. i. 


137' 




1 149 


III. ii. 1006 


I039 


III. i. 


146 




1184 


C/III.ii. 123, 




C/I. 


i. 80 






137 


1040 


III. i. 


i54» 


i863 


1209 


Cf. 2 Gent. III. 


I075 


III. ii 


. 694 




1211 


Cf. III. V. 708 


III3- 


4.0 III. 


ii- 73 


-85 


1218 


III. ii. 138 



35. 



1 In Sh. R. refuses T.'s challenge, III. i. 65, in a gentle manner. 
This enrages Mercutio, who attacks T. 

2 See notes to 962, 999, 1007, and 1019, Appendix I. 

3 In Sh. it is Lady Capulet who demands that R. should die. 

4 In Sh. J. hears of R.'s banishment from N., who learns the news 
v/hile gone for the rope ladder. 

5 "Ah, cruel murthering tongue, murth'rer of others' fame. 

How durst thou once attempt to touch the honour of his name?" 
In Sh. her reproaches are amplified by N., on whom she turns : — 
" Blistered be thy tongue 
For such a wish ! he was not born to shame." — III. ii. 90. 
Tivo Gentlemen^ I. ii. : — 

"O hateful hands, to tear such loving words ! 
Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey." 
and II. vi. : — 

"Fie, fie, unreverend tongue ! to call her bad 
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred." 

6 *'Why blam'st thou Romeus for slaying of Tybalt ? 

Since he is guiltless quite of all, and Tybalt bears the fault ?" 
Romeo and Juliet^ III. ii. 100 : — 

" But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin ? 
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband." 

7 "You are accounted wise, a fool am I your nurse. 

But I see not how in like case I could behave me worse." 
T1V0 Gentlemen^ III. i. : — 

'■'■Launce : I am but a fool, look you ; and yet I have the wit to think 
my master is a kind of a knave." 

8 See note to 1. 1794, Appendix II. 



APPENDIX I 



37 



1230 III. ii. 
1234 III. ii. 


140^ 
1413 


12393 

1259-64 III. i 
III. ii. 


. 141 
141 


III. iii. 


I4 


1267 III. iii. 
III. iii. 


I 

765 


1277 III. iii. 
1280 III. iii. 


146 


III. iii, 


l6l7 



1283 



1287 


III. iii. Ii9 


1292 


III. iii. 12, etc. 




III. iii. 68 


1297 


III. iii. 44, etc. 


I3I5 


Cf. III. iii. 52-70 


I3I8 


Not in Sh. 


1325 


Cf. III. iii. 119^0 


1352 


III. iii. 165 


1353 


III. iii. 109-13 


I38I 


III. iii. 122-34 


1383- 


1480 III. iii. 108 




158" 



1 In Sh. N. promises R. shall come that night ; not in Br. See note 
to 1280, Appendix I. 

2 In Sh. N. goes to L. between Scenes ii. and iii., Act III. 

3 N. does not threaten suicide in Sh. ; see note to 521, Appendix II, 
Not in Boaistuau. 

4 Br. omits all mention of R. after the fray until he has lengthily 
described the dolours of J. 

5 Br. says this secret place was where L. had secreted his *'fair 
friends" in his youth, 1273; ^^^ Y^^ "^^ ^^^ informed that he had 
travelled abroad for twenty years, when young, 2099. Sh. suppresses 
this "secret place," and refers to L.'s study^ III. iii. j6. 

6 In Sh. N. does not arrive until after L. has told R. his fate ; in Br. 
she arrives before. 

7 N. has already promised this in Sh., III. ii. 140 ; and it is she and 
L. who actually arrange this at the cell, III. iii. 159-61. 

8 In Sh. N. tells J. in the interim between Scenes iii. and v.. Act III. 

9 See note to 1277, Appendix I. 

10 In Sh. R. has not railed on his birth, etc., as L. says, and S. here 
has followed his original in one place, while forgetting that he had not 
followed it in the other. See Appendix II. 

11 In Br. L. lays down the law 5 in Sh. L. reasons. Br.'s L. has the 
same sort of wisdom as all the seers of euphuistic books ; cf. the prolix. 



13! 



APPENDIX I 



H43 


III. ill. 15 I 


1713 


III. V. 35 


1482 


C/III. V. 1302 




Cf. II. iii. 1-6 


1490 


III. iii. 165 


1715 


III. V. 1-58 


1496 


C/III. iii. 173 


1725 


III. V. 35-6 


1499 


III. iii. 149, 169 


1732 


Not in Sh. 


1504 


III. iii. 152 


1733 


Not in Sh. 


1507 


III. iii. 1463 


1736 


III. iii. 149-546 


1529 


III. V.4 


1744 


C/I. i. 125-617 


1546 


C/III.v. 6o5 


1794 


III. V. 70 


1605 


Not in Sh. 


1844 


C/I. ii. 78 


1662 


III. V. 52 




I. iii. 63 


1668 


III. V. 60 


1849 


Not in Sh.9 


1695 


III. V. 44 


1857 


Cf. I. ii. 9 


1703 


III. V. 7 




I. iii. 69 



classical death-speech of Sir John of Bordeaux, in Lodge's Rosalynde, 
pp. 2-6, "Shakespeare Classics," i. 

i "Unto a valiant heart there is no banishment, 

All countries are his native soil beneath the firmament." 
Cf. Richard II., I. 3, on Bolingbroke's banishment : 

" All places that the eye of Heaven visits, 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens." 

2 ". . . the conduits of his tears." See also 1805. 

3 After this in Sh. comes Scene iv., in which C. and P. arrange for 
the marriage of J. and P. on the following Thursday ; in Br. P. is not 
mentioned until after the banishment of R, [see Introduction). 

4 Br. goes through the greater part of the night's story as Chaucer does 
in his TroiL, IV. ; Sh. shows us only their passionate parting. III. v. 

5 Very little of this talk between R. and J. is in Sh. 

6 R. goes to Mantua between III. v. and V. i. Here in Sh. follow 
immediately the arrangements for the wedding of J. and P. 

7 In Sh. this sorrow of R. is reported by M. earlier in the story. See 
note to 1758, Appendix II. 

8 In Sh. P. has already been promised J., even before the lovers meet. 

9 Cf. 1. 1 88 1-4. In Sh. P. is at the commencement a suitor, begging 
against C.'s inclination, I. ii. 6 ; there is, therefore, none of this in the play. 





APPENDIX I 




i86o 


I. ii. 9 




1974 


See Appendix II 




I. iii. 12^ 




1992 


III. V. 1974 


1890 


III. V. 68, 105 




1997 


Not in Sh.5 


1893 


III. V. 114 




2005 


III. V. 231 




I. iii. 74, 77, 80 


-94 




IV. i. 18 


1905 


III. V. 117 




2007 


IV.i.44^ 


1915 


C/IV. i. 77^ 




2015 


IV. i. 467 


1929 


See 1849 




2019 


IV.i. 55 


1945 


III. V. 142-97 




2023 


IV. i. 54, 628 


1962 


III. V. 179 




2035 


IV. i. 68 


1973 


III. iv. 20 3 




2045 


Not in Sh.9 




III. V. 162 




2048 


Cf. IV. i. 47 




IV. i. I 




2065 


IV. i. 93 




IV. ii. 36-7 




2066 


Not in Sh.9 



39 



1 In Sh. J. is 14 years old. In Boaistuau she is 18 (p. 64.) 

2 See note to 521, Appendix II. 

3 Thursday in Sh. is the day first arranged, but C. afterwards decides 
on Wednesday. (IV. ii. 24 and 37. See Appendix II.) 

4 In Sh. C. exit alone. 

5 In Sh. the time-compression brings C.'s insistence to J. that she 
should wed P. immediately after the parting of R. The leave-taking of 
the lovers, Lady Capulet's talk to J. about P., C.'s storming at his 
daughter, and J.'s going to L., all take place in a short space of time, in 
one single morning. In Sh., therefore, there is no mention of J.'s 
retiring. The introduction of P. at this point serves to keep him in the 
action. See also 2015 and 2277. 

6 There is no confession in Sh., although J. pretends to go for that 
purpose. 

7 In Sh. L. already knows it, having been told by P. See 2045, 
Appendix I. 

8 See 191 5, etc. In Sh. J. threatens to kill herself only if there is no 
remedy for her predicament. 

9 L. does not leave J. in Sh. ; his disappearance at this point would be 
most inopportune, and for this additional reason, perhaps, P. is made to 



I4-0 



APPENDIX I 



2069 
20702 
20723 
2074 


IV. i. 1 1 

IV. I. 68 


2163 

2164 

2167 

2168 


IV.I. 113, I 
IV. i. 115 
IV. i. 117 
III. iii. 1507 


2091 


IV. i. 92 


2176 


IV. i. 121 


2109 


II. iii. 15 


2187 


IV. i. 122 


2129 
2130 


IV.i.93^ 
IV. i. 94 


2194 

2200 


IV. ii. 158 
IV. ii. 17-22 


2132 
213+ 


IV. i. 96 
IV. i. loi 


2234 


IV. ii. 33 
IV. iii. I 


2145 
2150 
2152 
2159 


Cf. IV. i. 71-6 
IV. i. 915 
IV. i. 103 
IV. i. 1096 


2239-429 
2244 1V\ ii. 31 
2255 IV. ii. 44 
2257 III. iv. 2010 



23 



have already told him the news. In Br. P. afterwards begs to see J., and 
does so. S,ee 2263 tcq. 

1 In Sh. L. has already asked P. this, ^ee 2015. 

2 Thursday in Sh. See notes to Arg., 1973 and 1997, Appendix I. 

3 See note to Arg. 

4 In Boaistuau L.'s youth is not mentioned, as in 2097 and 2122, but 
we are afterwards told, p. 83 ^, that the friar gained his knowledge in his 
young years. 

5 In Sh. this is "to-morrow night" ; see note to 1997, Appendix I. 

^1 In Sh. L. says the trance shall last forty-two hours, IV. i. 105. In 
Boaistuau, p. 69, and in Struijs he says at least forty hours. Painter 
followed Boaistuau. It may be that Sh. got his forty-two hours from 
the old play(?), or that he arrived at it by a certain time calculation. 
Thus, if J. drank the potion at 3 a.m. on Wednesday, she would be due 
to awake at 9 p.m. on Thursday, reckoning forty-two hours. 

7 In Sh. L. says this to R. at the cell. 

S In Sh. J. meets her mother in the hall. 

9 In Sh. C. is already there arranging for the feast. 
10 See note to 1973, Appendix I. 





APPENDIX I 




2258^ 




2291 


Not in Sh.7 


2259 


C/III. Iv. 232 


2299 


III. V. 220, 237 


2263 


Cf.lV. i.3 


2301 


III. V. 215 


2271 


C/AY. li. 254 


2304 


C/III. V. 217 


2274 


cy:iv.v. 41 


2312 


Not in Sh.9 


22j6 


Cf. IV. ii. 24 


2313 


IV. iii. 2 


2277 


Not in Sh.5 


2316 


IV. iii.io 


2281 


IV. Ii. I 6 


2326 


IV. iii. 3 " 


2288 


III. V. 240 


2341 


Cf. IV. iii. 20 ^2 



[41 



1 5^^ note to 1974, Appendix II. 

2 Sh. gives a far better reason for neglect of display. In the play it is 
C. who decides to have little celebration, and because of the death of T. 

3 In Sh. P. sees J. at L.'s cell. See note to 2066, Appendix I. 

4 In Sh., of course, she does not do this ; it was quite inconsistent 
with her character. The corresponding passage in Sh. is IV. ii. 25, 
where J. says : 

" I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell. 
And gave him what becomed love I might. 
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty." 

5 See note to Arg. 

6 In Sh., III. iv. 27, C. says he will have **some half a dozen guests," 
and for these, IV. ii. 2, he wants "twenty cunning cooks." This is 
due to Sh. following Br. in one place (11. 2281-7) and inventing in 
another. 

7 In Sh., IV. ii., N. is present when J. tells her parents of her new 
decision. 

8 Shifted in Sh. to III. v., before J. goes to L., and found only in Br. 
and Struijs besides Sh. 

9 See note to Arg. 

10 In Sh. J. and N. go to select the clothes before retiring ; there is no 
intervening time as in Br. : another compression. See note to Arg. 

11 In Sh. Lady Capulet enters at this point, and J. despatches N. to 
help her mother in the preparations. 

12 In Sh. the mixture is already made by tlie friar, IV. i. 93, seq,^ and 
cf. 2129, Appendix II. 



142 


APPENDIX I 




2 344 


IV. iii. 24 seq. 




2431 


IV. V. 48 


2361 


IV. iii. 24, 30 




2445 


IV. iv. 25 


2365 


IV. iii. 38 






IV. V. 335 


2380 


IV. iii. 42, 52, 


55 


2448 


IV. V. 41 seq. 


2393 


Not in Sh.^ 




H54 


IV. V. 31-25 


2400 


IV. iii. 58 2 




2455 


Not in Sh.<5 


2402 


IV. iii. 58 




2474-7 V. 11. 4 


24033 






24877 




2405 


IV. iv. 24 




2488 


V. ii. 5-6 




IV. V. I 




2491 


C/ V. ii. 9-10 


2407 


IV. V. i-ii 




2493 


V. ii. II 


2418 


IV. V. 14 




2494 


V. ii. 10 


2421 


Not in Sh.4 




2502 


V. ii. 149 


2424 


IV. V. 19 




2505 


C/IV. V. 91 


24274 






2508 


IV. V. 84^° 



1 Cf. IV. iii. 50. 

2 In Sh. she drinks thinking of R. 

3 The day must dawn, in Sh., in IV. iv. Cf. 1. 4. 

4 In Sh. Lady Capulet enters the chamber on hearing the cries of N.; 
C. follows. 

5 Sh., following Br., makes C. proclaim that he is speechless, but 
allows him also to indulge in clamorous lamentation. (Malone.) 

6 In Sh. L. is one of the guests, and there are no doctors sent for ; 
their place is taken by the friar. L. is not present in the poem. 

7 In Sh. we only see him on his return to L., V. ii. 

8 In Sh. the friar goes to seek out a fellow friar visiting the sick in the 
city, and the town officials, suspecting they were in a house smitten with 
pestilence, kept them confined there. V. ii. 9-10. 

9 See note to 261 1, Appendix I. 

10 "And now the wedding weeds for mourning weeds they change, 

And Hymene into a dirge ; — alas ! it seemeth strange : 
Instead of marriage gloves, now funeral gloves they have, 
And whom they should see married, they follow to the grave. 







APPENDIX I 


] 


2515 


IV. i. 1 1 1 




2567 


V.I. 573 


2521 


IV. i. 1 1 1 




2577 


V. i. 594 


2523 


IV. i. 109 




2578 


V. i. 60 5 




IV. V. 80 




2581 


V. i. 75 


2526 


V. i. 17 




2587 


V. i. -^^ 


2533 


V. i. 12 




2588 


Cf. V. i. 79 


2547 


V. i. 24 1 




2593 


Cf, V. iii. 22 


2557 


Cf. II. ili. 75 




2597 


C/V. i. 33, 36^ 


25622 






2604 


V. i. 257 



143 



The feast that should have been of pleasure and of joy, 
Hath every dish and cup filled full of sorrow and annoy." 
R. & /., IV. V. 84 : 

** All things that we ordained festival, 
Turn from their office to black funeral : 
Our instruments to melancholy bells j 
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast j 
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ; 
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse 5 
And all things change them to the contrary." 

1 Notice R.'s swift decision as to his future actions in Sh., as com- 
pared with Br.'s idea on the subject. See also 2789, Appendix I. 

2 In Sh. R. and his man Balthasar {see note to 631) meet in the street, 
and R. sends him off for post-horses. V. i. 26, 33. 

3 In Sh. R. already knows the poor apothecary, V. i. 37, and the 
man's shop is adjacent. V. i. 55-57. 

4 In Br. R. offers fifty crowns of gold, 2577 ; in Sh. forty ducats, 
V. i. 59 ; in Boaistuau fifty ducats, p. 76. 

5 In Br. the apothecary says, 2585, "this is the speeding gear"- in 
Sh. R. says, V. i. 60 : "A dram of poison ; such soon-speeding gear" etc, 

6 In Sh. R. and Balthasar {see note to 631) apparently leave together. 

7 He sends Balthasar for the ink and paper before he sees the 
apothecary in Sh. 



144 



APPENDIX I 



26II 


V. iii. 24 1 


2612 


V. i. 26, 332 


2614 


V. iii. 21 


2615 


V. iii. 22 3.4 


2619- 


20 V. iii. 255 


2623 


V. iii. 23 


2628 


V. iii. 43 


2630 


Cf.V. iii. 87-86 


2631 


V. iii. 91 ! 


2641 


V. iii. 1 19 


2643 


V. iii. 91-1 157 


2661 


V. iii. 97-101 


2681 


V. iii. 155 




C/V.iii. 113 


2686 


V. iii. 120 



2694 


V. 




I20-I 


2695 


V. 




125 


2697 


V. 




122 


2698 


V. 




1288 


2701 


V. 




139. 14+ 


2702 


V. 




1449 


2706 


V. 




147 


2710 


V. 




148 


2713 


V. 




155 


2717 


V. 




157 


2721 


V. 




161 


2733 


V. 




163 


2762 


V. 




158-61 


2772 


V. 




164 




V. 




169 



1 Here in Sh. follows V. ii., where Friar John returns to L. and 
announces the non-delivery of the letter to R. See 11. 2474-2502. 

2 In Sh. R. sends Balthasar to do this. 

3 In Sh. R. and Balthasar [see note 631) have apparently left together. 

4 In Sh. alone, P. and his page are already there when R. and his 
man enter. V. iii. i. 

5 In Sh., he opens the tomb himself after Balthasar has retired, 
V. iii. 48-9. R. in Sh. professes to be opening the vault to take a 
precious ring from J.'s finger, V. iii. 30. Note that J. herself had sent 
R. a ring in III. iii. 143. 

6 P. at this point comes forward and challenges R. in Sh., and R. 
does not descend until he has fought and slain P., and goes to lay him 
in the tomb. 

7 In Sh. R. makes his long speech before he takes the poison, and 
dies immediately after. 

8 This, in Sh., includes an account of the killing of P., which Bal- 
thasar imagines he has dreamt. V. iii. 139. 

9 In Sh. the friar finds P. too. 



APPENDIX I 



H5 



2789 


V. iii. 


1 70 1 


2829 V. iii. 2286 


2792 


V. iii. 


170 


2837-970 V. iii. 229-697 


2793 


V. iii. 


158 


2955 V. ii. I 


2799 


V. iii. 


I 70- I 2 


2971 V. iii. 271 s 


2800 


V. iii. 


1723 


2974 V. iii. 275 


2806 


V. iii. 


182, 184 


2977 V. iii. 286 


28074 






2985 C/V. iii. 292-59 


2809 


V. iii. 


I9I-3 


3006 V. iii. 296 


2821 


V. iii. 


216-22 


3013 V. iii. 299-303 




C/ V. 


iii. 1985 


3018^° 



1 Notice how swift J. is to act in Sh. on realising the situation. In 
Er. she first makes lengthy speeches. See also 2547, Appendix I. 

2 In Sh. the watch are led in by P.'s page. See note to 2971, 
Appendix I. 

3 And P., too, in Sh. 

4 In Sh. they are not put in a dungeon; the Prince enters immedi- 
ately after the watchmen find the bodies : it is then growing morning 
(V. iii. 189), and the trial proceeds after the entry of the Capulets and 
Montagues. 

5 See note to 2807. 

6 In Br., as in Sh., Escalus is evidently the judge. See 2985, Ap- 
pendix I. 

7 In Sh. says L. : 

" J will be brief, for my short date of breath 
Is not so long as is a tedious tale." 

8 And also P.'s page in Sh., V. iii. 279, who raised the watch. 

9 There is none of this judgment and punishment in Sh., nor are we 
told of L.'s subsequent fate. Br. here simply follows Boaistuau. 

10 In Sh, Montague says of J. : 

" I will raise her statue in pure gold." — V. iii. 299. 



APPENDIX II 

COMMENTS ON THE TEXT 

SHOWING Brooke's use of boaistuau and 

CHAUCER 

[For the cases in which there is no corresponding passage 
in Boaistuau for Brooke's lines or phrases, and where Brooke 
must have borrowed from Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, see 
notes on 11. 332, 435, 613, 645, 824, 920 (chiding Titan), 
1077, 1080, 1287, 1291-7, 1325-48, 1353, 1381, 1403-7, 

1537, 1703, 1744, 1750, 1756^ 1758, 1767-70. 1928 (?). 
For cases in which Boaistuau's prose has been altered or 
modified in translation, through Chaucer influence, see those 
on 11. 271 (?), 314, 457, 500, 909, 924. Similarities in 
phrase or incident which are not due to borrowing by 
Brooke and which go back to the Italian sources will be 
found in 11. 98, 119, 137, 211, 521, 841, 891-2, 929-32, 
1046, 1091, T161, 1173, 1283, 1532, 1546, 1616, 1673, 
1715, 1802, 1844, 2271, 2281, 2301, 2393. The apparent 
influence of the lost earlier English play (?) is shown in 
11. 1287, 2291. The similarity between Chaucer and 
Shakspere, pointed out in 1. 2547, is doubtless the result of 
the independent employment of dramatic irony in the poem 
and the play.] 



148 APPENDIX II 

Address to the Reader. 

. * . . . the mountain bear,' etc. An example of that 
curious natural history which became one of the character- 
istics of Euphuism. Sh. may have had this in mind in 
writing 3 HeJtry VI., III., ii. : 

"An unlick'd bear- whelp. 
That carries no impression like the dam," — 

but the idea was common, and occurs in Jonson, etc. 
Turbervile, however, certainly copied Brooke in his 
Epilogue to Epigramsy Epitaphs, Songs, etc., 1570, p. 145 : 

"The worst [of his works] he [the author] made 
in covert scroll to lurk 
Until the Bear were overlicked afresh. 
For why indeed this hasty hatched work, 
Resembleth much the shapeless lump of flesh 
That Bears bring forth," etc. 

. * the eldest of them.' Not very old : see Introduc- 
tion, Date of the Poem. 

. '■ the rest . . . awhile shall lurk.' We know of only 
one more : see Introduction, Author of the Poem. 



The Text. 

98. So with Troil. in his love-sorrow over Cris. : 

" This woful wight, this Troilus, that felte 
His freend Pandare y-comen him to see, 
Gan as the snozv ayeiti the sonne melte^* etc. 

Troil, IV., 365. 

Cf also Troil., I., 524, when Cris. is cold towards Troil., 
and Pand. says : 

" Thy lady is, as frost in winter mone, 
And thou fordoon, as snow in fyr is sone^ 



APPENDIX II 149 

Boaistuau, following Bandello, has here, p. 41 : [R] se 
fondoit pen a peu comme la neige au soleiL 

119. Troilus is learned, too; see Note to 1. 1 381, 
Appendix II. Boaistuau has, p. 41^ : /« ^j bien instru'ict aux 
lettres. 

137. Pand. gives Troil., bereaved of Cris., the same 
advice : 

" And over al this, as thou wel wost'thy-selve, 
This town is ful of ladies al aboute ; 
And to my doom, fairer than swiche twelve 
As ever she was," etc. — Troil., IV., 400. 

162. Brooke alone in the old versions has this written 
invitation. 

207-9. ... \/^ 

" And as out of a plank a nail a nail doth drive. 
So novel love out of the mind the ancient love doth rive. 
This sudden kindled fire in time is wox so great," etc. 

From Cicero, Tusc, iv., 35, 75 : '■'■ Etiam novo qiiidam amore 
veterem amorem, tanquam clavo clavum, eiiciundum putant^'' cf. 
Ovid, Remed. Amor. 462, " Successore novo vincitur omnis amor^ 
Troil., IV., 415: 

" The newe love out chaceth ofte the olde ;" 

and cf. 422 : 

*' The newe love, labour or other wo. 
Or elles selde seinge of a wight, 
Don olde affecciouns alle over-go. 

Two Gent, of Verona, I., iv. : 

" Even as one heat another heat expels, 
Or as one nail by strength drives out another." 

Rom. ^ Jul, I., ii., 46 : 

" Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning. 
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish " etc. 



I50 APPENDIX II 

King John, III., I., 270: 

*' And falsehood falsehood cures ; as fire cools fire 
Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd." 

Jul. Ccesar, III., i. : 

"As fire drives out fire, so pity pity." 

Coriolanus, IV., vii., 54 : 

" One fire drives out one fire ; one nail, one nail." 

This is the nearest form to Brooke. 

Boaistuau has here, p. 43 : V amour qiiil portoit a sa premiere 
damoiselle demoura va'tncu par ce nouueau jeu, etc. 

211. Very common in Troll. See I., 416; II., 1-7; 
v., 638 : but in this case from Boaistuau, p. 43, *^ Le ieune 
Rhomeo doncques se sentant agite de ceste nouuelle tepeste" etc. 

253. The only instance o^ Romeo in this poem, used here 
for purposes of rhyme, the usual form being Romeus. Painter 
generally spells Rhomeo, after Boaistuau, but has Romeo, 
p. 103/10 (Daniel's edition). 

254. Boaistuau says of Mercutio, p. 44: vn autre appelle 
Marcucio [Marcuccio Guercio in Da Porto, and Marcuccio 
in Bandello] courtisan fort ay me de tous, kquel a cause de ses 

Jacecies & gentillesses esto'it hi en re cue en toutes compalgnies, and 
goes on as Br. Here R. takes J.'s Hand seeing that Mer- 
cutio has the other. 

271. So Diomed in Troll, changes when wooing Cris., see 
v., 925. J. again refers to this "changing of his hue," 
1. 418, see Note to that line. Boaistuau mentions only, 
sa mutation de couleur, p. 44^. 

314. In Troll. Cris. will only consent to love Troil. if it 
be in keeping with her honour ; she says this many times : 
and J. insists on the same thing, see 1. 532 and Notes, 
Appendix II. J. uses the same words as Cris., copied by 
Br.— 



APPENDIX II 151 

Trail., II., 480 : 

" but elles wol I fonde, 
Myn honour satif, plese him from day to day" ; 

and III., 159: 

"she . . . 
. . . seyde him softely, 
^ Myn honour sauf, I wol wel trewely,' " etc. 

In Boaistuau at this point J. says, p. 45^: " /> suis vostrCy 
estat preste & dispose e de vous obeyr en tout ce que rhonneur 
pourra souffrirr 

332. 
" Of both the ills to choose the less, I ween the choice were 

hard." 
From TroiL, II., 470 : 

" Of harmes two, the lesse is for to chese." 

393. "A thousand stories more, to teach me to beware." 
From T/wY., III., 297 : 

" A thousand olde stories thee alegge 
Of wommen lost, thorugh fals and foles host." 

417. ^ee Note to 271. These outward signs of love 
are frequent in Sh.'s works. Cf. lOphelia's description of 
Hamlet in what Polonius calls " the very ecstacy of love," 
Hamlet II., i. ; Rosalind's description of a lover, As You 
Like It, III., ii., etc. Boaistuau says here, p. 47 : Car iay 
experimete tant de mutations de couleur en luy, lors qiiil parloit a 
moy, & ray veu tant transporte & hors de soy, etc. 

427. See 11. 608-9, ^559- 

435. Br.'s sunrises apparently come from TroiL, where 
there are several descriptions which he might have borrowed : 
IroiL, II., 54: 

" whan Phebus doth his hrighte hemes sprede 
Right in the whyte Bole," etc., 

i.e., in the White Bull or Taurus. — Skeat, p. 467. See Note 
to 1703. 



152 APPENDIX II 

457. 
"And when on earth the Night her mantle black hath spread." 

TroU.y III., 1429: 

" O Make nighty as folk in bokes rede, 
That shapen art by God this world to hyde 
At certeyn tymes with thy derke ivede" 

Boaistuau says, p. 47 ^ : mats si tost que la nuict auec son hrun 
manteau auoit couuert la terre, etc. 
R. ^ /., II., ii., 75 : 

" I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes." 

III., ii., 10-15 : 

" Come, civil nighty 
Thou sober-suited matron, all in blacky 

Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks 
With thy black mantle" 

500. Frequently mentioned in Troil. ; f/T, III., 733, etc. 
In Boaistuau he says simply, p. 48 : " Ma damey . . . ma vie 
est en la main de Dieu, de laquelle luy seul peult disposer. 

521. Troil. contains frequent instances of characters 
threatening to commit suicide, and Br. has several after this. 

532. This point is brought out often in Troil., cf.y I., 
1030-6; II., 351-57. ^ee Note to 314, Appendix II. 
But Br. follows Boaistuau here, who says, p. 48 ^ : // vous 
pretendez autre priuaute de nioy que Vhonneur ne le commande, 
vous viuez en tres grand erreur,"* etc. 

566. Boaistuau says, p. \<^b\ " C^ frere Laurens . . . 
estoit vn ancien Docteur en Theologie, de rordre des freres 
Mineursy" etc. 

609. See 11. 427, 1559. 

611. The day's delay not in Sh., because of the time- 
compression. 



APPENDIX II 153 

613. From Tm/., I., 1086: 

" Now lat us stinte of Troilus a stounde, 
That fareth lyk a man that hurt is sore, 
And is somdel of akinge of his wounde 
Y-lissed well, but heled no del more : 
And, as an esy pacient, the lore 
Abit of him that gooth aboute his cure ; 
And thus he dryveth forth his aventure. 

645. "golden locks." As Cris. in Troil. See Note to 
1077, Appendix II. 

746. pres cCvne heiire in Boalstuau, p. 51. 

774. Boaistuau describes the ladder, p. 52: Vne eschelle 
da (sic) cordes auec deux forts crochets defer, attaches aux deux 
^outs, cLnd adds that such ladders were fort fre^uentes en I take. 

800. See Note to 211, Appendix II. 

824. Br. says that the lovers would have brought night 
over the earth if they might have guided the heavens like 
Alcmene. Alcmene, of course, had no power over the 
heavens ; it was Jove who prolonged the night for her sake. 
Now, Boaistuau has here, pp. 52-3 : de sorte que s'ils enssent 
peu commander au del comme Josue fist an sole'il, la terre eust este 
bien tost couuerte de tres obscures tenebres, Br., therefore, took 
Chaucer's lines. III., 1427-8 : 

" O night, alias ! why niltow over us hove, 
As longe as whanne Almena lay by Jove?" — 
said, too, in connexion with the lovers' meeting at night — 
and substituted Jlcmene, or, as he has it, Alcume, for Josue, 
keeping, however, the context. See Glossary, and Note to 
1. 1758, Appendix II. 

841. Cf the meeting and embraces of Troil. and Cris., 
Troll IV., 1 128, etc. 

891-2. 
* Who takes not time,' quoth she, * when time well offered is, 
Another time shall seek for time, and yet of time shall miss.' 



154- APPENDIX II 

So Crls., at her final meeting with Troil. at night, says, 
IV., 1611 : 

"And thenketh wel, that som tyme it is wit 
To spend a tyme, a tyme for to winne." 

C/. also IV., 1283. Boaistuau has here, p. 53^: Qui ateps 
a propos IS le pert, trop tard le recoutire. 

909, 924. Probably from TroiL, III., 13 10 seq, : 

" Of hir delyt, or loyes oon the leste 
Were irnpossible to my wit to seye ; 
But iuggeth, ye that han ben at the feste. 
Of swich gladnesse, if that hem liste pleye ! 
I can no more, but thus thise ilke tweye 
That night, be-twixen dreed and sikernesse, 
Felten in love the grete worthinesse." 

and 1331 : 

" For myne wordes, here and every part, 
I spcke hem alle under correcioun 
Of yow, that feling han in loves art," etc. 

Cf. also, II., 19-21 ; III., 1693. Boaistuau has, p. 54: que 
peuuent iuger ceuJx qui ont experimcv.te senihlablcs \delices?\ 

920. So Troil. and Cris. are parted by dawning, III., 
141 5, and Troil. chides day and Titan, III., 1450, 1464. 
See Notes to 1756, 1758, Appendix II. 

929-32. ^ce Notes to 815, and Arg., Appendix I. So 
Troil. and Cris. arrange to meet every night. Troil., III., 
1710: 

" And whanne hir speche doon was and hir chere. 
They twinne anoon as they were wont to done. 
And setten tyme of meting eft y-fere ; 
And many a night they wroughte in this manere." 

949. See Notes to 815 and Arg., Appendix I. 
1046. In Troil. it is Cris. who is exiled from her lover; 
in Floris and Blanchejieur it is Floris. 



APPENDIX II 155 

1077. Cf, the actions and lamentations of Cris., Troll. y 
IV., 736: 

" Hir ounded heer, that sonnish was of hewe, 
She rente, and eek hir fingres longe and smale, 
She wrong ful ofte, and bad god on hir rewe," etc. 

^ee also 1. 2723. 

1080. So Chaucer cannot tell Cris.'s plaint, T/w7., IV., 
799 : 

" How mighte it ever y-red ben or y-songe, 
The pleynte that she made in hir distresse? 
I noot ; but, as for me, my litel tongue. 
If I discreven wolde hir hevinesse. 
It sholde make hir sorwe seme lesse," etc. 

1 09 1. Cris., too, throws herself on her bed to make her 
lamentations. IV., 733. 

1099. Br. follows Boaistuau closely here. 

1 161. Cris. faints similarly on the prospect of separation 
from Troil. ; Troil., IV., 1 156 : 

" This Troilus, that on hir gan biholde, 
Clepinge hir name, (and she lay as for deed, 
With-cute answere, and felte hir limes colde, 
Hir eyen throwen upward to hir heed)," etc. 

and IV., 1 168: 

" With sorwful voys, and herte of blisse al bare, 
He seyde how she was fro this world y-fare !" 

1 173. Troil. also swoons in his love-troubles, III., 1092 ; 
and he is revived as N. revives J., III., 1 1 14. 

1283. So Pandarus arranges the final night-meeting of 
Troil. and Cris., IV., 887: 

" And semeth me that he desyreth fawe 
With yow to been al night, for to devyse ;" 

and he says to Troil., IV., 1 1 14 : 

*' For which my counseil is, whan it is night. 
Thou to hir go, and make of this an ende." 



156 APPENDIX II 

1287. All this scene between L. and R. (i 287-1 507) is 
not in Boaistuau, and was taken by Br. from the earlier play 
and amplified from Chaucer. 

1 29 1 -7. This is Troil.'s condition when he hears of his 
separation from Cris., IV., 239 : 

" Right as the wilde bole biginneth springe 
Now here, now there, y-darted to the herte, 
And of his deeth roreth in compleyninge. 
Right so gan he aboute the chaumbre sterte, 
Smyting his brest ay with his festes smerte : 
His heed to the ivaly his body to the grounde 
Ful ofte he sivapte^ him-sel'ven to confounde." 

IV., 250: 

" O deeth, alias ! why niltow do me deye ?" 

1325-48. From Troil.yY.f 204, when Troil. is bereft of 
Cris. : 

"And there his sorwes that he spared hadde 
He yaf an issue large, and * Deeth ! " he cryde ; 
And in his throwes frenetyk and madde 
He cursed Jove, Apollo, and eek Cupyde, 
He cursed Ceres, Bacus, and Cipryde, 
His burthe, him-self, his fate, and eek nature, 
And, save his lady, every creature." 

Cf. also III., 1072-6. 

1353. 

" * Art thou,' quoth he, * a man ? Thy shape saith, so thou art ; 
Thy crying, and thy weeping eyes denote a woman's heart. 
For manly reason is quite from off thy mind outchased, 
And in her stead affections lewd and fancies highly placed : 
So that I stood in doubt, this hour, at the least. 
If thou a man or woman wert, or else a brutish beast. 
A wise man in the midst of troubles and distress 
Still stands not wailing present harm, but seeks his harm's 
redress." 



APPENDIX II 



57 



Pandarus reproves Troil. : so, Troil.y III., 1098 : 

" O theef, is this a mannes herte ? 
And of he rente al to his bare sherte." 

and Cris. says, III., 1126: 

" is this a mannes game ? 
What, Troilus ! wol ye do thus, for shame ? " 

The last two lines are evidently copied in Richard II. y III., ii. : 
" My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woes, 
But presently prevent the ways to wail." 

1 361. From Boaistuau, p. 59^. C/T the similar storm in 
Greene's Pandosto, p. 69, " Shakespeare Classics," 2. 

1 38 1. 6"^^ also 1. 141 3. When Pandarus reproves Troil. 
sorrowing over his loss of Cris., he says, TroiL, IV., 1086 ; 
"*0 mighty God,' quod Pandarus, *in trone, 
Ey ! who seigh ever a wys man faren so ? * " 

Cf. also Troil.y I., 99 1 . 

1403-7. ^ee 11. 1470, 1546, 1668, and cf. Trolly I., 848: 

" For if hir wheel stinte any-thing to torne. 
Than cessed the Fortune anoon to be : 
Now, sith her wheel by no wey may soiorne. 
What wostow if hir mutabilitee 
Right as thy-selven list, wol doon by thee," etc. 

1532. Br.'s R. and J. resemble in almost every way 
Chaucer's Troil. and Cris. in this, their final night together. 
As R. and J. embrace and are mute, so Troil. and Cris., 
IV., 1 130: 

" That neither of hem other mighte grete. 
But hem in armes toke and after kiste. 
The lasse wofuUe of hem bothe niste 
Wher that he was, ne mighte o word out-bringe. 
As I seyde erst, for wo and for sobbinge," etc. 

Br. says R. and J. stood mute the eighth part of an hour; 
Boaistuau says vn gros quart d^heure, p. 60. 



158 APPENDIX II 

1537. So Cris. leans her head on Troil.'s breast, IV., 1 1 49 : 
" But on his breast her head doth joyless Juliet lay, 
And on her slender neck his chin doth ruthful Romeus stay." 
" * O Jove, I deye, and mercy I beseche ! 
Help, Troilus !* and ther-with-al hir face 
Upon his brest she leyde, and loste speche." 

1546. Such laments over the action of Fortune are a 
constant feature of euphuistic books, and exceedingly common 
in TroiL, but taken here from Boaistuau, p. 60. See Note to 
1403-7, Appendix II. 

1559. See 11. 427, 609. 

1603. See 521, Appendix II. 

1616. So Troil. wishes to accompany Cris. when the 
time comes for parting, IV., 1506 : 

" I mene this, that sin we mowe er day 
Wei stele away, and been to-gider so, 
What wit were it to putten in assay. 
In case ye sholden to your fader go 
If that ye mighte come ayein or no? " 

1668. Cf. 1403-7, 1470, etc. 

1673. See 1. 1504. So Cris. promises to return to Troil. 
in ten days. 

1703. These sunrises seem to come from Troil.; cf. III., 

1415: 

** But when the cok, comune astrologer, 
Gan on his brest to bete, and after crowe, 
And Lucifer, the dayes messager, 
Gan for to ryse, and out hir bemes throwe," etc. 

This is at a parting of Cris. and Troil. See Note to 435, 
Appendix II. 

1 71 5. C/C the last parting of Troil. and Cris., IV., 1688 : 

" And after that they longe y-pleyned hadde. 
And ofte y-kist and streite in armes folde, 
The day gan ryse," etc. 



APPENDIX II 159 

1733. In Boalstuau he parts acoustre en marchant estranger, 
p. dib. 

1739. 5^^ 11. 1504, 1673. 

1 744. No mention of R.'s sorrow in Boaistuau, the whole 
of the passage (i 744-72) being made up greatly from Chaucer. 

1750. So with Troil, : III., 444, 1535. 

1756. Iro'il, III., 1702 : 

*' Quod Troilus, ' alias ! now am I war 
That Pirous and tho swifte stedes three, 
Whiche that drawen forth the sonnes char, 
Han goon som by-path in despyt of me," — 

but here he blames the sun for rising too early, ^ee also his 
remonstrance with Titan, III., 1464. S>ee next Note. 

1758. Troil. 's condition during his separation from Cris. 
is R.'s, v., 659 : 

*' The day is more, and longer every night. 
Than they be wont to be, him thoughte tho ; 
And that the sonne wente his course unright 
By lenger wey than it was wonte to go ; 
And seyde, ' y-wis, me dredeth ever mo. 
The sonnes sone, Phaton, be on-lyve. 
And that his fadres cart amis he dryve.' " 

Barnaby Riche in his Farewell to the Military Profession ( 1 5 8 1) 
says in his tale of " Apolonius and Silla," translated from 
Belleforest and coming from Bandello : " Siluio thus depart- 
ing to his lodging, passed the night with verie vnquiet 
sleapes, and the nexte Mornyng his mynde ran so much of 
his Supper, that he neuer cared, neither for his Breakfast, nor 
Dinner, and the daie to his seemyng passed away so slowelie 
that he had thought the statelie Steedes had been tired that 
drawe the Chariot of the Sunne, or els some other losua had 
commaunded them againe to stande, and wished that Phaeton 
had been there with a whippe." 



i6o APPENDIX II 

1767-70. So TroiL, V., 456: 

*' These ladies eke that at this feste been, 
Sin that he saw his lady was a-weye, 
It was his sorwe upon hem for to seen, 
Or for to here on instrumentz so pleye." 

^794- 
" For time it is that now you should our Tybalt's death forget. 
Of whom since God hath claimed the life that was but lent, 
He is in bliss, ne is there cause why you should thus lament. 
You can not call him back with tears and shriekings shrill : 
It is a fault thus still to grudge at God's appointed will." 

R. and J. fill., v., 70 : 

" Evermore weeping for your cousin's death ? 
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? 
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live." 

Hamlet, I., ii., 70 : 

" Do not for ever with thy vailed lids 
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.'* 

Hamlet, I., ii., loi : 

"Fie ! 'tis a fault to heaven; 
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature." 

In Boaistuau N. says to J. on her grief immediately after 
the fray, p. 59 : "J?/ st le seigneur Thtbault est mort, le pensez 
z'ous reuocquer par voz larmesV The above-quoted passage 
from Brooke corresponds to Boaistuau, p. 63 : " ^ mettez 
peine de vous resiouyr, sans plus penser a la mort de vostre cousin 
Thibault, lequel s'il a pleu a Dieu de Pappeller, le plsez vous 
reuoquer par voz larmes & cotreucnir a sa volonteV 

1802. Cris., on being wooed by Diomed, affects to be 
mourning for her dead husband, V., 973. In Sh., III., v., 
75, etc., J. simulates that her grief really is for T.'s death, thus 
differing from her open confession in Br. ^ce also IV., i., 6. 



APPENDIX II i6i 

1844. See Note to 652, Appendix I. [Troil. is afraid 
that Calchas will want to wed Cris. when she goes to him, 
IV., 147 1 : 

" Ye shal eek seen, your fader shal you glose 
To been a wyf," etc.] 

1849. See Note to 1844. In Boaistuau, p. 64^, as in 
Bandello, p. ^6, P. is called Paris, Count of Lodrone. 

1862. The common complaint of fathers with a single 
daughter. See Gower's CoJi/essio Jmantis, V., 6764 ; and cf. 
Brabantio's words, Othello, I., iii. ; and hcon^to^s Much Ado j 
IV., i., "Grieved I, I had but one? " etc. 

1867. Notice how reasonable C. is here and in Sh., I., ii., 
7-34, and contrast this with his later furious outbursts in 
both poem and play. Lady C. does not apparently follow her 
husband's request. See 11. 1890 and 1908. The discrepancy 
occurs in Boaistuau. 

1928. 
"And up unto the heavens she throws her wond'ring head 

and hands." 
C/. rmV., III., 183: 

" Fil Pandarus on knees, and up his yen 
To hevene threw, and held his hondes hye." 

igy^. See Note to Jrg. and 1997, Appendix I. In 
Boaistuau he gives her till Mardy, p. 66, to prepare and 
consent, but the marriage day is Wednesday, p. 6jb. 

1974. Villafranca in Bandello. See Chiarini's reprint, 
p. 95. In Sh. Free-town is the prince's judgment-place, 
I., i., 109. See Note to 2281, Appendix I. 

2099. See Note to 1267, Appendix I. 

2129. See Note on Sir B. W. Richardson's mandrake in 
Introduction, and 2341, Appendix I. 

2 1 94. Boaistuau says she returned sur les z-nze heures, p. 70. 



i62 APPENDIX II 

2271. In Troil. DIomedwoos Cris., banished from Troil., 
as P. woos J. herewith R. banished, V., 120 seq.; and Cris. 
was thought in this manner to have given her heart to 
Diomed, V., 1050: 

** Men seyn, I not, that she yaf him hir herte." 

2277. In Boaistuau he spends several A2>.y% so, p. 71 b. 

2281. Cf. the feast of Sarpedon, Troil., V., 435 seq. 
Boaistuau says at this point, p. 7i<^; '"'■ Villefranche duquel nous 
auons faict mention estoit vn lieu de plaisance ou le Seigneur 
Anthonio se souloit souuent recrcer, qui estoit a vn mille ou deux 
de Veronne, ou le disner se deuoit preparer, combien que les solen- 
nitez requises deussent estre f aides a Verojine^^ 

2291. In Boaistuau the whole of this passage, 2 2 8 1 -2 3 1 2, 
is missing. 

2301. So Diomed tells Cris. that if she loves anybody in 
Troy, it is not worth the while, for nobody there can get 
out to reach her. Troil., V., 874-889. 

2393. Troil., separated from Cris., is subject to similar 
night-fears and misery, V., 246-66. 

2403. Cf. Troil., v., 274. [The day must dawn in Sh. 
in IV., iv. ; cf. 1. 4.] 

2474. See 1. 2163. 

2487. In Boaistuau he is called Friar Anselme, p. 74. 
In Br. and Sh. alone is he called John. 

2508. See Note to 2508, Appendix I. C, ordering the 
feast, says, IV., iv., 5 : 

" Look to the baked meats, good Angelica." 

A reversal of this change from wedding to funeral occurs in 

Hamlet, where the late king's funeral swiftly changes into 

the queen's wedding, and Hamlet says, I., ii., 180: 

"Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral baked-meats 

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables." 



APPENDIX II 163 

2526. In Boalstuau, R. had sent his man back on his 
arrival at Mantua, au seruice de son pere, pp. bzb, 75. 

2547. Before R.'s man arrives he speaks of his sense of joy 
in words full of dramatic irony, V., i., i : 

" If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, 
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand : 
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne. 
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit 
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. — 
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead," etc. 

Cf, with Troll, V., 1163: 

"*Alas, thou seist right sooth,' quod Troilus j 
*But hardely, it is not al for nought. 
That in myn herte I now reioyse thus. 
It is ayein som good I have a thought. 
Noot I not how, but sin that I was wrought 
Ne felte I swich a confort, dar I seye ; 
She comth to-night, my lyf, that dorste I leye ! " 

This is, too, when Troil., like R., is separated from his love. 
I cannot explain these two passages as being properly con- 
nected, and consider their similarity only as a remarkable 
coincidence. To his Troil. passage Professor Skeat says 
(p. 500): " C^ Romeo's speech in Romeo, V., i., i-ii " : 
he, too, noticed the likeness. 

2723. ^ee Note to 1077, Appendix II. 



APPENDIX III 



Brooke's death 



In a letter from Henry Cobham^ to Challoner, dated 
May 14, 1563, the writer says: "Sir Thomas Finch was 
drowned going over to Newhaven [i.e.f Le Havre] as knight- 
marshal in Sir Adrian Poinings' place, who is come over. 
James Wentworth and his brother John were cast away in 
the same vessel, on the sands near Rye, and little Brook and 
some other petty gentlemen." In view of the parallel cir- 
cumstances and the dates, we are justified in believing that 
"little Brook" is our own Arthur Brooke, the poet. A 
fuller account of the shipwreck is given in Stow,^ where we 
read : " For you must vnderstand that Sir Adrian Poinings 
being knight Marshall, vpon his return into England went 
not backe againe : and then was Sir Thomas Finch of Kent 
appointed to go ouer to supply the roomth of knight Marshall, 
who making his prouision readie, sent over his brother 
Erasmus Finch to haue charge of his band, and his kinesman 

I Calendar of State Papers^ Foreign^ 1563, p. 338. 

1 am indebted to the kindness of Mr. R. B. McKerrow for this and 
the following reference. 

2 The Annales or Generall Chronicle of England^ by John Stow, 1 6 1 5, 
p. 654, col. i. 



i66 APPENDIX III 

Thomas Finch to be prouost marshall, whilest he staying till 
he had every thing in a readinesse to passe over himselfe, at 
length embarqued in one of the Queens ships, called the 
Greyhound, hauing there aboorde with him besides three 
score and sixe of his own retinue, foure and fortie other 
Gentlemen .... and as they were on the further coast 
towards Newhauen [i.e., Havre], they were by contrarie 
wind and foule weather driuen backe againe toward the 
coast of England, and plying towards Rie, they forced the 
captaine of the ship, a very good seaman,^ named William 
Maline, and also the master and mariners, to thrust into the 
hauen before the tyde, and so they all perished, seuen of the 
meaner sort onely excepted, whereof three dyed shortly after 
they came on land. After this mischance, Edmond Randoll 
was appointed knight Marshall." 

It would be possible with these and other particulars given 
by Stow to fix the date of the shipwreck with a fair amount 
of accuracy. From other records, however, it is possible to 
fix the date with absolute precision. Henry Machyn says 
in his diary: 2 ** The xxj day of Marche tydynges cam to 
the cowrt that on off the quen's shypes callyd the Grahound 
was lost gohyng to Nuwhavyn ; the captayn was Ser Thomas 
Fynche knyghtt of Kent, and ys brodur3 and on of my lord 
Cobham['s] brodur," etc. And in a letter from Cecil to 
Sir Thomas Smith,4 dated 21st of March, i562[-3], we 
read : " Here hathe happened two dayes past a lamentable 

1 Cf. Turberville's lines quoted in the Introduction. 

2 T/ie Diary of Henry Machyn^ 1 550-1 563. Edited by J. G. Nichols, 
Camden Soc, 1848, p. 302. 

3 Brother. 

4 Queen Elizabeth and Her Timesy A Series of Original Letters. Edited 
by T. Wright, 1838, Vol. I., p. 133. 



APPENDIX III 167 

chance. Sir Thomas Fynche being appointed to be Marshall 
at Newhaven in the place of Sir Adryan Poynings, taking 
shippe at Rye with thirty gentlemen .... were lost with 
the shippe besydes the Camber," etc. 

We are then able to state definitely that Brooke was 
drowned with Sir Thomas Finch on March 19th, 1563, in 
the ship Greyhound near Rye. 






ALEXANDER MORING LIMITED 

THE DE LA MORE PRESS 

32 GEORGE ST. HANOVER SQ. 

LONDON ENGLAND 



K, J, 



